KAI£j  or, 
BIG  THUNDER/ 
Chief  of  the  Anti -Renters 

By  Tom  Shortfellovr 
Boston,  Gleason,  1845 


TOE  LIBRARY 

« fKff EKSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


Mill 


OR, 


BIG  THUNDEE! 


CHIEF  OF  THE 


BY    TOM   SHORTFELLOW, 
Author  of  "The  Lady  of  the  Cabin,"  "Evelyn  of  Allegne  Cliff,"  &c. 


BOSTON: 

F.  GLEASON,  PUBLISHER, 

1  1-2  TREMONT  ROW. 

1845. 


TO    THE    READER, 


"They  unto  whom  we  shall  appear  tedious  are  in  no  wise  injured  by  us, 
because  it  is  in  their  own  hands  to  spare  that  labor  which  they  are  not 
willi  ig  to  endure." 

HOOKER. 

To  mingle  fiction  with  truth,  doth  seem  almost  a  profanation.  It  seems 
like  uniting  Time  with  Eternity — weakness  with  power — the  sordid 
thoughts  of  men  with  the  immutable  laws  of  God — the  low  grovelings  of 
Earth  with  the  truths  of  Heaven.  Yet  the  true  and/a/se  are  strangely 
mingled  in  the  Almighty  hand.  We  find  them  on  the  same  broad  plat- 
form— we  met  them  at  every  turn,  oftentimes  hand  joined  in  hand,  false- 
hood so  disguised  that  it  seems  a  twin  to  truth.  So  it  is  permitted ; — 
for  what  end,  God.m  his  Providence  has  not  seen  fit  to  reveal  to  man. 
But  that  they  are  made  to  work  together  for  ultimate  good,  there  can  be  no 
doubt.  So  believe  of  our  story.  If  we  have  mingled  fiction  with  truth  in 
the  little  cup  we  now  offer,  it  is  to  show  how  passion  may  sometimes  de- 
grade a  noble  heart — how  prejudice  may  blindly  lead  a  man  to  false  con- 
clusions; and,  if  persisted  in,  will  assuredly  produce  unhappy  results. — 
Then  ;  - 

"For  us,  and  for  our"  story, 
"Here  stooping  to  your  clemency, 
We  beg  your  hearing  patiently." 

THE  AUTHOR. 


1694355 


MARY    KALE; 

OR, 

BIG  THUNDER; 

CHIEF   OF  THE  ANTI-RENTERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

«Tis  a  little  thing 

To  give  a  cup  of  water,  yet  its  draught 
Of  cool  refreshment,  drained  by  fever'dlips, 
May  send  a  shock  of  pleasure  to  the  soul 
More  exquisite  than  when  nectarian  juice 
Renews  the  life  of  joy  in  happiest  hours. 
'Tis  a  little  to  speak  some  common  word 
Of  comfort,  which  hath  almost  lost  its  use  ; 
Yet  on  the  ear  of  him  who  thought  to  die 
Unmourned,  'twill  fall  like  choicest  music. 

[From  the  Tragedy  of  Ion. 

"Let  him  not  come  here  !  Let  him  beware  !"  These  words  were  spoken 
by  an  old  man  as  he  stood  resting  from  his  labor,  leaning  upon  his  hoe ; — 
called  forth  by  his  eye  falling  on  a  young  man  dressed  in  a  gay  hunts- 
man's coat,  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  who  emerged  from  the  woods  and 
took  the  road  at  no  great  distance  from  him.  "Let  him  not  come  here,  or 
I  may  read  him  a  lesson  that  will  last  him  for  many  a  day  to  come."  The 
speaker  was  about  tifty  years  of  age,  though  his  locks,  bleached  by  expo, 
sure,  and  his  frame  bowed  by  toil,  spoke  him  older.  He  was.  dressed  in  a 
pair  of  coarse  tow  pants,  a  shirt  of  the  same  cloth,  (though  of  a  finer  tex- 
ture,) open  at  the  collar,  displaying  a  neck  and  chest  of  great  strength,  and 
manly  proportion.  His  feet  and  head  were  bare,  having  thrown  aside' an 
old  straw  hat,  feeling  it  too  heavy  in  the  heat  of  his  labor.  He  watched 
the  young  man  as  he  wound  his  way  up  a  steep  hill,  not  once  taking  his 
eye  from  him  till  he  disappeared  within  a  neat  little  cottage  standing  on  its 
summit,  when  turning  away  and  wiping  the  perspiration  Irom  his  brow, 


6  MARY  KALE;  OB, 

he  muttered,  (as  if  some  other  being  was  associated  with  him  in  his 
thoughts,")  %the  means  her  no  good — let  him  beware."  The  old  man  re- 
sumed his  work,  though  with  a  brow  troubled,  and  anxiety  written  in  every 
line  of  his  care-worn  face ;  and  as  he  toiled  on,  ever  and  anon  he  would 
turn  an  inquiring  look  in  the  direction  of  his  home. 

It  was  October,  yet  the  weather  was  warm  and  mellow,  summer  having 
taken  its  second  flight,  and  as  the  sun  went  down  leaving  his  smiles  on  the 
western  sky,  clothing  it  in  azure  and  purple,  John  Kale,  (for  that  was  the 
old  man's  name,)  having  finished  his  hard  day's  work,  took  his  way  to- 
wards his  home.  His  step,  though  firm,  was  slow  and  measured,  and  his 
eyes  when  raised  from  the  ground,  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  cot- 
tage on  the  hill.  When  he  came  to  the  garden  wall  that  surrounded  his 
lowly  dwelling,  he  stopped  and  leaned  upon  it,  his  elbows  resting  upon  the 
wall,  and  his  hard  bony  hands  supporting  his  head.  His  face  was  still 
turned  towards  the  cottage,  as  'twas  his  greatest  foe,  and  feared  io  turn  his 
back  upon  it.  While  yet  he  looked,  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the  grace- 
ful gambols  of  a  hound  at  play.  Its  fellow  was  a  man,  and  as  he  lay  up- 
on his  back,  the  dog  would  sweep  off  some  two  or  three  rods,  and  then  come 
back  again,  with  a  yelp  jump  high  in  the  air,  and  over  the  prostrate  body 
of  the  man,  and  stopping  at  nearly  the  same  distance  on  the  other  side, 
face  about.  With  a  yelp  the  hound  came  back  again,  and  failing  to  clear 
the  man,  was  caught  in  his  embrace,  and  man  and  dog  rolled  together  upon 
the  sward. 

"Father,"  said  a  sweet  plaintive  voice,  and  at  the  same  time  a  hand  was 
laid  gently  upon  the  old  man's  shoulder. 

"1  was  thinking  of  thee,  child,"  said  Kale,  his  face  losing  a  part  of  its 
sterness  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  the  innocent  face  of  his  daughter. 

"I  hope  they  were  happy  thoughts,  dearest  father.'* 

"Mary  !"  said  die  old  man  in  a  voice  that  caused  the  girl   to  start  and 
drop  her  hand  from  his  shoulder,  "he  has  come  back  again !" 

"George  ?"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  that  name  was  uppermost  in  her  thoughts, 
her  face  lighting  up  with  pleasure. 

"Mr  Arlin,"  replied  Kale  in  the  same  cold  and  even  tone.     "You  must 
not  see  him,  Mary  !" 

"Father  !" 

''I  have  said  it ;  you  must  not  see  him!     He  knew  from   me  last   spring 
that  his  intentions  to  you  were  anything  but  pleasing  to  me." 

"Did  you  tell  him  so  ?" 

"Yes,  did  I." 

"And  what  said  he,  father  ?" 

"He  asked  to  know  the  cause  of  my  prejudice." 

"And  you  told  him " 

"What  I  may  tell  him  again,  if  needs  must  be  so ;  but  I  trust  he  will  be 
wise,  and  not  come  between  me  and  my  duty.     I  hate  these  flirting   lads 
who  look  upon  themselves  as  a  few  choice  spirits  of  earth,  like  the  patches 


BIG  THUNDER.  7 

of  vegetation  scattered  here  and  there  upon  the  bosom  of  a  boundless  des- 
ert, drawing  their  life  and  vigor  from  the  waste  around.  I  hate  those  who 
feel  themselves  too  good  to  herd  with  the  common  herd,  and  yet  shrink  not 
from  robbing  the  poor  man's  garden  of  its  sweetest  flower.  Were  it  left  to 
me  I  would  rid  society  of  them  !" 

''So  say  the  anti-rent  men ;  have  they  persuaded  you  to  join  their  ranks, 
lather?"  she  asked,  looking  him  up  in  the  face,  her  own  expressing  the 
deepest  concern. 

"No,  child,  no !  I  will  not  consent  to  wrong  because  wrong  exists  in  so- 
ciety— I  will  not  do  wrong  that  good  may  come  of  it ;  but  I  must  feel  for 
those  who  work  from  early  dawn  till  late  at  night  for  scarcely  enough  to 
satisfy  the  rapacity  of  the  lordly  rent- gatherer,  while  their  families  are 
starving  at  home." 

"Are  they  to  be  blamed  for  being  born  rich  ?  The  rents  are  their  lawful 
due." 

"Was  England  to  blame  for  being  our  mother  country?  Assuredly  not. 
But  she  must  impose  upon  us  oppressive  taxes — she  must  treat  us  as  slaves 
rather  than  men ;  all  lawfully  done,  for  which,  her  indignant  colonies  most, 
unlawfully  whipped  her.  Who  is  there  now  to  blame  them  for  it  ?  Un- 
derstand me,  I  do  not  blame  men  for  their  wealth,  but  for  their  unworthy 
use  of  it — I  would  not  punish  their  wealth,  but  their  vices — I  would  have 
them  remember  the  injuuctions  of  holy  writ,  where  much  is  given,  much 
is  required.  I  would  have  them  grateful  for  what  they  possess,  and  give 
its  best  efforts  to  the  wants  around  them,  instead  of  oppressing  the  humble 
poor." 

"Your  prejudice  against  George  must  spring  from  his  station  in  life,  as 
you  can  know  nothing  derogatory  to  his  character." 

"I  judge  of  him  by  others  of  his  class — What  does  he  here  ?    If  he  seeks 
a  wife  why  does  he  leave  his  own  circle  in  the  city  ?     The  eagle  seeks  not 
to  mate  with  the  dove,  nor   the   son  of  an  aristocrat  with  a  poor  man's 
daughter.     He  means  thee  false,  Mary !" 
"Father !" 

"Oh,  his  words  are  fair,  no  doubt!     Falsehood  ever  shows  a  smiling  face, 
and  hypocrisy  delights    in  oily  phrases — nay,  not  a  word  more.     I   have 
heard  enough.     Let  him  beware  how  he  tempts  me  ;    it  would  spoil  his 
beauty  to  lose  his  ears  !" 
"I  never  thought  you  harsh  till  now,  father." 

"I  am  harsh  only  to  be  kind.  Think  you  L  can  stand  idly  by  and  see  my 
child  dishonored  ?" 

"Dishonored,  father !  your  confldence  is  weak  in  your  child  !  You  know 
her  not !" 

'•Forgive  me,  Mary  !  I  know  I  wronged  you — I  know  you  are  above 
suspicion  ;  but  virtue  will  not  save  thee  a  broken  heart.  You  must  forger 
this  boy  for  one  of  your  own  degree ;  there  are  not  a  few  of  them  that  would 


S  MARY  KALE;   OR, 

be  happy  with  the  alliance.     Among  the  foremost  stands  Jerry  Huss." 

Kale  knew  not  that  Huss  had  that  day  plead  his  suit  with  all  the  elo- 
quence he  was  master  of,  and  had  been  dismissed  without  one  word  of  en- 
couragement, and,  as  he  brought  forward  the  name  of  the  discarded  knight, 
he  watched  the  telltale  countenance  of  his  daughter,  to  see  how  it  would 
stand  with  him,  but  not  a  muscle  moved  in  her  sweet  face  when  she  asked, 

"Would  you  wed  me  to  Jerry  Huss  ?" 

"And  why  not  ?  He  is  handsome." 

"Yes." 

"Brave  ?" 

"I  grant  it." 

"Good  ?" 

"Perhaps!" 

"Keenly  alive  to  the  misery  around  him." 

"I  see  in  his  actions,  more  the  desire  of  notoriety,  than  sympathy  for  the 
oppressed.  Know  you  of  no  reason  why  he  should  not  wed  your  daughter?" 

"None  !" 
•    "And  you  would  have  me  marry  him  ?" 

"With  your  consent." 

"Then  hear  me  !"  she  said,  her  eyes  flashing  with  the  indignation  she 
felt  for  the  object  of  their  discourse.  "If  ever  I  wed  against  my  will — if 
ever  I  give  my  hand  without  my  heart — if  ever  I  bind  myself  to  a  man  I 
despise  so  utterly  as  I  do  Jerry  Huss — then  desert  me  heaven  /" 

"Spoken  like  my  child  !" 

"I  will  not  wed  against  your  will,  father  ;  neither  will  I  be  forced  towed 
against  my  own." 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  an  arrival  extraordinary. 

"Come  along  T:ge,  come  along,"  said  a  voice  in  broad  Irish  accents, 
"hoop — p — p  !"  and  over  the  wall  came  the  man  and  his  dog,  "By  the  pow- 
ers, Misthur  Tige,  Michael  Flynn  couldn't  have  done  the  thing  betther 
himself.  And  is  it  there  ye  are,  Miss ?"  he  said,  seeing  Mary,  uncov- 
ering his  head  and  bowing  with  marked  comical  gravity,  "God  bless  yer 
pretty  face  !  Ah !  yer  honor,  top  of  the  evening  to  ye,"  he  continued,  giv- 
ing Kale  one  of  his  side-long  bows,  "I  hope  the  Lord  has  gin  ye  hilth  for 
the  last  half  year." 

"We  have  been  pretty  well,  Michael  "  answered  Mary,  seeing  her  fath- 
er's brow  darken,  "I  suppose  you  have  seen  much  to  amuse  you,  since  you 
were  here  in  the  spring."  ,. 

"Amuse,  is  it  ?  By  the  powers,  a  devil  a  bit.  My  masthur  had  it  all  to 
himself.  There  was  nothin'  for  poor  paddy  to  do,  but  black  boots,  dust 
coats,  squaze  the  bottles  for  a  drop  ov  the  craythur,  and  do  the  like  to  the 
darlins  when  they  come  to  take  away  the  decanthurs." 

"But  you  could  enjoy  the  prospect  at  Niagara,  could  you  not,  as  well  as 
your  master  ?" 

"Is  i".  there  where  all  the  wathers  in  Ameriky  rins  over  one  mill-dam  ?  " 


BIG  THUNDER.  9 

"Yes,"  answered  Mary,  laughing." 

"And  its  jist  nothin'  at  all,  at  all." 

"No  ?" 

"A  divil  a  hit — 0  yer  should  see  one  ov  the  raal  bogs  of  Ireland." 

"Are  they  so  very  terrific,  Michael?" 

"And  is  it  tir — tirrific  ye  say  ?  May  the  saints  defind  us  !  Ye  wouldn't 
terry  long  an,  an'  ye  got  in  one,  ony  how." 

The  dog  who  had  been  playing  around  Kale,  licking  his  hand,  and  oth- 
erwjse  trying  tOsattract  his  notice,  finding  his  efforts  lost,  turned  to  his  more 
gentle  companion,  who  patted  him  on  his  head  and  graceful  neck. 

"Och,  he's  a  swale  crathur,"  said  Michael,  who  felt  as  proud  of  attention 
shown  his  dog  as  to  himself.  "He's  as  gintle  and  kind  as  a  famale  wo- 
man, but  'whin  he  goes  afthur  the  birds,  he's  as  uggly  as  the  divil,  ivery 
bit  of  him.  Stan1  up,  Misther  Tige,  and  shake  hands  with  the  lady — up 
yc  spalpeen,  and  don't  be  afthur  being  modist  now.  Tint's  right,  now 
spake'." 

"Can  he  talk,  Michael  ?" 

"Sure  he  can.     Spake  ye  divil!"    . 

"Bow,  wow,  wow  !"  said  the  dog. 

"Isn't  his  voice  swate,  Miss  ?" 

"Very,  I  should  think." 

"Now,  Misthur  Tige,"  continued  Michael,  shake  hands  with  his  honor.' ' 

The  dog  stood  upon  his  hind  feet  and  presented  his  pjiw  to  Kale,  who, 
though  grouty,  could  not  show  ill  will  towards  the  dog.  Therefore,  stoop- 
ing, he  took  the  delighted  animal  by  the  paw.  Michael  taking  advantage 
of  Kale"s  stooping  posture,  slipped  a  note  into  his  daughter's  hand.  Mary's 
heart  told  her  who  was  the  author  of  the  note,  and  she  fell  she  ought  not 
to  receive  it  after  her  promise  to  her  father ;  but  love  and  the  desire  to  know 
what  it  contained,  conquered;  and  quickly  placing  the  note  m  her  bosom, 
she  disappeared  within  the  house. 

"Michael,"  said  Kale  for  the  first  time  breaking  silence,  now  that  his 
daughter  had  left  them.  "What  brings  you  back  again?" 

"Me  !  and  shure  didn't  I  cum  along  with  my  masthur  ?" 

"Well,  well  !     What  brought  him  here  ?" 

"A  stage  coach  brought  him,  sur,  with  mysilf  and  misther  Tige  on  the 
top  !" 

"But  will  you  tell  me  for  what  purpose  he  is  here  ?"  asked  Kale,  sharply, 
his  patience  nearly  exhausted. 

"Faith,  an'  I  would  yer  honor,  but  ye  see — ye  see—" 

"See  what  ?" 

"Ye  see,  I  don't  know,  yer  honor." 

Then  tell  your  master  from  me,  that  if  he  would  save  himself  and  my 
family  much  trouble,  he  will  avoid  my  house.  Tell  him  in  short  that  we 
don't  wish  to  see  him." 


10  MARY  KALE  :    OR, 

"Is  it  to  me  ye  are  tarkin' — me  that  has  dined  in  the  most  ginteelesc 
kitchens  in  Ameriky,  and  would  ye  be  afthur  having  me  do  the  thing  so 
unginteel — and  to  my  own  dear  masthur,  too?  Och,  ye  blarney  !  till  him 
yerself,  an'  ye  will." 

"I  only  wished  to  give  him  a  word  of  caution,"  said  Kale,  "I  should  ad- 
vise him  not  to  get  caught  prowling  around  my  house — let  him  look  to  it !" 
saying  which,  he  1  eft  the  astonished  Irishman,  and  entered  Uie  house. 

"Misthur  Tige,  did  ye  mind  what  the  oulddivil  sed?  By  the  powers, did 
he  take  us  for  a  pair  of  Irish  clpdhoppers,  as  we  are,  that  we  should  be  af- 
thur telling  our  masthur  the  like?  Och,  the  blackguard !  Come  along, 
Misthur  Tige,  an'  we'll  not  hear  any  more  of  his  blarney." 


CHAPTER    II. 

"I  have  night's  cloak  to  hide  me  from  their  eyes  ; 
And  but  thou  love  me,  let  them  find  me  here  ; 
My  life  were  better  ended  by  their  hate, 
Than  death  prorogued,  wanting  of  thy  love." 

[Shakespeare. 

The  sun  had  gone  to  rest,  and  the  stars  came  6ut  one  by  one,  holding 
their  eternal  vigil  over  the  earth  and  affairs  of  men;  and  the  moon  came 
up,  the  full  round  moon,  casting  her  rays  of  silver-light  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
forest  and  river,  o'er  wild  pastures  and  waving  corn,  rendering  the- good 

town  of  G ,  a  scene  to  delight  the  elfin  queen.  In  one  corner  of  John 

Kale's  garden  there  stood  a  rural  arbor  of  lattice- work,  run  over  with 
creeping  vines  ;  which  however  had  lost  their  freshness,  and  most  of  their 
leaves  had  gone  to  parts  unknown.  The  moon-beams  struggle  through  the 
withered  branches,  lighting  up  the  interior.  There  are  voices  within — let 
us  listen.  *  , 

"I  am  doing  very  wrong  to  meet  you  here  to-night,  George,  but  I  could 
not  resist  your  kind  letter,  and  the  desire  to  see  you  once  again,  before  we 
part  perhaps  forever." 

"Who  talks  of  parting?" 

"It  is  I,  George  !  it  is  inevitable;  father  will  not  consent  to  your  visits 
any  longer." 

"Fathers,  always  have  strong  hearts,"  said  George  with  some  bitterness, 
"they  seem  tb  forget  now,  that  time  has  laid  its  chilliug  hand  upon  their 
affections — now  that  the  frost  of  old  age  lias  extinguished  the  fire  of  youn- 
ger years — now  that  their  blood  runs  sluggishly  in  their  veins — I  say  that 


BIG  THUNDER.  11 

they  seem  to  forget  that  it  ever  bounded  with  freeer  joy— that  a  bright 
flame  once  burned  in  their  hearts,  lighting  their  affections  to  one  altar,  and 
one  alone.  And  they  are  selfish  too;  they  stick  to  their  prejudices,  though 
they  prove  the  tomb  of  their  children's  happiness." 

"You  mistake  my  father,"  replied  Mary,  "he  is  doing  what  he  thinks 
will  promote  my  happiness.  He  looks  upon  all  rich  people  through  the 
same  coloring  that  infatuates  the  age.  He  believes  them  heartless  and 
selfish,  he  believes  they  look  upon  the  humbler  class  as  only  fit  for  their 
use  ;  and,  though  they  should  swear  that  their  motives  are  pure,  he  would 
not  believe  it.  All  this  he  attributes  to  their  education.  He  mistrusts 
their  motives ;  he  doubts  them  all;  in  short,  he  believes  your  motive  in 
visiting  me,  any  thing  but  good  !" 

The  young  man's  eyes  flashed  indignantly  at  the  charge,  but  overcom- 
ing his  hauteur,  he  mildly  replied,  "your  father  knows  but  little  of  men,  or 
he  would  learn  not  to  judge  of  the  few  by  the  many.  He  would  learn  to 
judge  of  each  particular  tree  by  its  fruit;  he  would  /see  that  there  are  some 
though  rich  who  would  spurn  a  base  action ;  that  good  may  come  out  of 
Nazareth.  I  say  not  this  in  pride  to  laud  my  own  virtues,  but  to  convince 
you  that  whatever  my  faults  may  be,  I  have  none  towards  thee." 

"I  believe  it !"  said  the  lovely  girl,  and  the  thought  that  she  must  give 
up  that  noble  and  generous  heart — resign  the  only  being  she  ever  loved, 
perhaps  forever,  brought  tears  to  her  eyes,  and,  leaning  her  head  upon  his 
bosom,  she  wept  like  a  child. 

"Do  not  weep,  Mary,"  said  her  lover,  kissing  her  fair  forehead.  "All 
this  can  be  got  over.  If  your  father  sticks  only  at  my  wealth,  it  shall  no1 
make  us  unhappy." 

She  looked  up  through  her  blinding  tears  incredulously  into  the  young 
man's  face,  as  if  not  willing  to  guess  the  meaning  of  his  word^.  "I  do  not 
understand  you,  George,"  she  said. 

"You  are  of  infinite  more  value  to  me  than  my, wealth,  Mary,  and  if  I 
must  give  up  one  or  the  other,  I'll  letgo  the  wealth.  I'll  turn  farmer — I'll 
earn  my  bread  and  your's,  as  lowly  as  does  himself.  If  he  will  not  let  me 
raise  you  to  my  station,  I'll  descend  to  yours.  Will  that  content  him, 
Mary  ?" 

"And  if  it  contents  him,  it  will  not  me.  As  much  as  I  love  you,  George, 
I  will  not  consent  to  that  extremity." 

"I  should  do  it,  Mary,  knowing  what  I  did — I  should  do  it  feeling  as- 
sured that  I  should  find  an  ample  eqnivalent  in  thy  bright  and  happy  smiles, 
thy  full  heart  of  rich  affection,  thy  true  and  trusting  love.  What  is  wealth 
compared  with  happiness  with  thee  ?" 

"Dear  George,  how  happy  we  should  be  !  Why,  why,  is  it  ordained  oth- 
erwise ?" 

"It  is  not,  dearest.  In  heaven  we  are  united,  our  vows  are  recorded  by 
the  finger  of  divine  truth ;' and*  should  man  dash  away  the  cup  of  happiness 
prepared  for  us  by  angels? — shall  a  father  by  unceasing  prejudice  and  un- 


12  MARY  KALE  ;  OR, 

tiring  hate,  destroy  the  happiness  of  his  child?  Forbid  it  love!  In  some  oth- 
er country  we  can  be  happy — le^  us  away — let  us  fly  — 

In  the  eagerness  of  his  words,  he  had  folded  her  to  his  heart;  and,  in 
the  happiness  of  the  moment,  she  rested  her  head  upon  his  manly  breast, 
forgetful  of  the  future,  forgetting  all,  save  their  mutual  loves.  But  when 
he  counselled  her  to  fly,  she  released  herself  from  his  embrace,  and  looking 
him  up  in  the  face,  the  expression  of  her  own  lacking  none  of  its  former 
tenderness,  she  asked,  . 

"Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying  ?  Do  you  in  sober  earnestness  coun- 
sel me  to  fly  with  you  ?" 

"And  why  not  ?"  replied  the  impassioned  youth.     "Shall  we  not  have 
the  same  sky  over  us,  the  same  moon  to  light  our  path,  the  same  stars  to 
watch  our  slumbers  ?  Shall  we  not  breathe  the  same  pure  breath  of  heaven? 
And  the  same  Earth,  will  it  not  produce  us  food  and  flowers  ?" 
"Should  I  have  my  father,  George  ?" 
The  young  man  stood  reproved. 

"Can  I  leave  that  old  man,  now ;  My  father,  the  author  of  my  being  ? 
He  that  has  toiled  early  and  late  for  my  sustenance — he  that  would  lay 
down  his  life  as  >he  has  spent  his  strength,  for  my  happiness — can  I  do  this? 
Can  I  leave  my  mother  ?  She  that  watched  over  the  helpless  infant  and 
guessed  its  wants  by  the  instinct  of  its  mother's  bosom — she  that  first 
taught  its  infant  tongue  to  lisp  the  fond  names  offa'.her,  mother — she  that 
first  taught  her  child  to  listen  to  the  teachings  of  that  holy  book,  that  say- 
eth,  honor  thy  father  and  mother,  and  listen  to  their  counsels  ?  And  now 
that  that  mother  is  old,  herself  as  helpless  as  was  the  infant  that  once  drew 
nourishment  from  her  bosom— now  that  she  looks  to  that  child,  that  only 
child  for  her  support,  can  it  leave  her  to  fill  a  childless  grave  ?  Say,  do  you 
counsel  me  to  do  this  ?" 

"No,  Mary,  no!  forgive  me,  forgive  my  selfishness.  But  must  this  be 
the  end  of  all  ?" 

"For  the  present,  yes  ;  at  some  future  day  when  my  father  sees  he  has 
wronged  you — when  he  sees  his  daughter's  happiness  depends  upon  it,  he 
may  give  his  consent." 

"But,  think  you  his  dislike  of  me  is  the  only  bar  to  his  consent?  Think 
you  he  has  no  other  in  prospect  for  you  ?" 

"I  think  he  would  be  glad  to  have  me  marry  some  one  else,  though  he 
would  not  force  my  inclinations." 
"Has  he  proposed  any  one  to  you  ?" 
"Yes,  to-day." 

"And  who  is  the  favored  man  ?(' 
"You  will  laugh — Jerry  Huss !" 
"What,  he  that  acts  the  bully  ?" 
"Even  so !" 

"I  am  astonished  that  your  father  should  seriously  think  of  that  man. 
It  is  thought  he  takes  an  active  part  with  the  Indians." 


BIG  THUNDER.  13 

"I  feared  it." 

"It  is  believed  it  was  he  that  applied  the  tar  ts  the  Sheriff  last  June. 
"My  father  would  not  believe  it.     He  believes  that  Jerry  Huss  like  him- 
self, feels  a  warm  sympathy  for  the  anti-renters,  but  he  would  not  believe 
that  he  would  join  that  lawless  band,  the  terror  of  the  country." 
"I  should  like  well  to  see  him,  what  does  he  look  like?" 
"Like  a  man ;  though  I  should  as  soon   think  of  loving  an  Indian,  as 
him." 

"Did  he  ever  make  you  any  overtures  ?" 

"Never  till  to-day.     When  I  refused  him,  he  left  me  in  a  passion." 
There  was  a  noise  without  like  the  breaking  of  the  dry  branches  among 
the  vines,  which  caused  the  girl  to  turn  pale  and  grasp  her  lover's  arm. 

"I  can  stay  here  no  longer,  George,"  she  said,  "I  slipped  out  unobserved 
and  may  be  missed." 

"They  will  not  be  alarmed  about  you,  Mary." 

"Indeed  I  can  stay  no  longer ;  but  George,"  she  continued,  her  voice 
trembling  with  emotion,  "it  may  be  many  years  before  we  meet  again; 
you  will  go  to  your  home  in  the  city — you  will  mingle  in  society,  where 

you  will  meet  others  more  engaging,  more  accomplished,  more ~" 

"And  with  but  half  of  your  truthfulnes,"  interrupted  George.  "Do  not 
fear  for  me,  Mary,  judge  of  me  by  the  standard  in  your  own  heart.  If  that 
proves  true,  so  believe  me."  Saying  which,  he  took  from  his  bosom  a 
small  gold  chain,  attached  to  which  was  his  miniature,  and  throwing  it 
over  her  neck  he  said,  "keep  it  as  a  talisman,  Mary." 

"I  have  no  keepsake  for  you  George,  unless  it  be  this  poor  ribbon  around 
my  waist." 

"The  very  thing  I  would  have  of  all  others,"  he  said,  placing  the  ribbon 
around  his  neck  beneath  his  vest.  "Nestle  close  to  the  heart  that  will  not 
part  with  thee  except  with  life,  or  the  loss  of  reason." 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  the  last  sentence,  when  the  entrance  to  the  ar- 
bor was  darkened  by  the  presence  of  Kale.  Stern  and  silently  the  old  man 
regarded  his  daughter,  who  cowering  under  his  reproving  glances,  threw 
herself  at  his  feet.  Kale  raised  her  up  as  he  said,  "you  have  deceived  me, 
Mary." 

"Forgive  me,  father  !  it  was  for  the  last  time,  forgive  me,"  and  she  sunk 
sobbing  on  her  father's  bosom. 

"Mr.  Arlin,"  said  Kale,  his  voice  hoarse  with  passion,  "this  time  you  are 
safe  ;  heware  how  you  tempt  me  further  !  Come,  my  child ;"  and  so  they 
parted. 

George  watched  the  retreating  footsteps  of  Kale  and  his  daughter  till  they 
entered  their  humble  dwelling,  and  turning  away  with  a  sinking  heart,  he 
took  the  way  towards  his  home.  He  had  not  proceeded  far,  when,  as  if  by 
enchantment  a  man  appeared  in  the  path  before  him.  The  moon  shone 
brightly,  revealing  the  tall,  broad  outline  of  the  man,  a  very  giant.  George 
Arlin  was  not  easily  intimidated,  and  though  his  opponent  apparently,  was 


14  MARY  KALE:  OR, 

greatly  his  superior  in  bodily  strength,  and  though  the  place  was  lonely 
and  the  meeting  suspicions,  yet  he  felt  no  alarm.  He  was  one  that 
would  willingly  avoid  a  quarrel,  however,  and  stepping  on  one  side,  he 
attempted  to  pass  on.  The  figure  left  the  path  in  the  same  direction  and 
still  debarred  his  passage. 

14  Well,  sir  devil,  or Avhoever you  maybe,  what  want  you  with  me  ?"  asked 
George  with  as  much  calmness  as  he  could  command.  ''Why  do  you  stop 
my  path?" 

The  figure  made  no  reply. 

"Have  you  no  tongue?  Who  are  you,  what  your  purpose?  If  you  want 
rr.oney,  here's  my  purse,  so  let  me  go  !" 
"Pshaw  !  I  want  not  you  money." 
"Why  do  you  stop  me  then  ?" 
"To  hear  you  rant." 

"You'll  have  your  labor  for  you  pains,  then;  for  I'll  not  gratify  you." 
"I  had  one  other  motive,  friend." 

"And  what  might  that  be,  friend .'"  asked  George,  emphasizing  the  last 
word. 

"It  might  be  to  see  which  was  the  strongest  man — oh,  don't  be  alarmed, 
that  was  not  it." 
"And  if  it  were,  I  fear  you  not." 

"Don't  brag,  friend,  when  there's  no  occasion  for  it.  I  hate  brags,  'tis  a 
sure  sign  of  cowardice;  besides,  as  I  said  before,  that  was  not  it." 
"You  are  devilish  provoking." 
"There  I  told  you,  you  wonld  rant." 

"In  the  name  of  the  devil,  will  you  tell  me  why  you  stopped  me  ?" 
"Don't  mention  that  gentleman,  and  I  will.     It  was  to  make  your  ac-' 
quaintance." 

"And  pray  what  know  you  of  me,  that  you  wish  to  make  my  acquain- 
tance ?" 

"Very  little  'faith  ;  I  wish  to  know  more." 

"But  why  do  you  take  this  extraordinary  way  to  bring  it  about?" 
"My  dear  friend,  just  put  a  stopper  on  your  questions,  and  let  me  win 
your  confidence  by  confiding  to  you  a  little  secret.     You  must  know — but 
it  is  a  secret,  you  understand  ?" 

"I  shall  make  no  promises  of  secrecy." 

"But  it  concerns  a  dear  and  mutual  friend  of  ours," 

"Pshaw  !  will  you  out  with  it  ?" 

"Well,  you  must  know,  then,  that  I  have  a  disease  of  the  head,  which 

>» 

"A  slight  weakness  in  the  upper  story,  is  it  not  sir?"  interrupted  George. 

"I  beg  of  you  not  to  interrupt  me,  and  you  shall  see.  As  I  was  saying, 
I  have  a  certain  disease  of  the  head,  for  which  the  physicians  Stivise  exer- 
cise in  the  open  air.  Not  wishing  to  disturb  our  good  neighbors  with  my 
daily  rambles,  I  take  them  nightly.  To-night  happening  to  pass  by  a  cer- 


BIG  THUNDER.  15 

tain  arbor  standing  in  the  garden  of  neighbor  Kale,  I  heard  voices  that  at- 
tracted my  attention.  Being  a  little  curious  to  know  what  was  going  on, 
I  get  close  beneath  the  vines  at  the  back,  and  listened  to  as  pretty  a  —  I 
beg  you  would'nt  interrupt  me " 

"Go  on,  go  on,  sir." 

"Well,  as  it  won't  interest  you  much,  I'll  pass  over  the  billing  and  coo- 
ing, and  come  to  the  point.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation  they  spoke 
of  a  certain  man  by  the  cognomen  of  Huss,  Jerry  Huss.  The  gentleman 
expressed  his  desire  to  see  the  aforesaid  Huss  ;  therefore  I  waited  your  com- 
ing, to  introduce  to  you  the  bully  !  He  stands  before  you  !" 

''And  you  overheard  all  that  was  said  ?"  asked  George  with  remarkable 
coolness. 

"Every  word  of  it,"  replied  Huss. 

"And  was  so  kind  as  to  wait  expressly  to  inform  me  of  it  ?" 

"Even  so." 

"Then  take  that  for  your  pains,"  said  George,  and  he  dealt  Jerry  a  blow 
under  the  chin,  that  sent  him  reeling  backwards.  Recovering  himself, 
Huss  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger  sprang  at  the  young  man's  throat,  while 
one  hand  clutched  the  handle  of  his  dagger.  Quickly  changing  his  mind, 
however,  he  released  the  dagger,  muttering,  "not  yet,  not  yet !"  And  with 
the  strength  of  a  giant  he  threw  George  from  him,  who  in  his  backward 
thrust  got  his  feet  entangled  with  some  roots  of  trees  in  his  path,  and  fell 
upon  his  back.  Regaining  his  feet,  he  sprang  for  his  adversary,  but  hehad 
vanished.  Disappearing  in  the  same  mysterious  manner  that  he  appeared , 
leaving  his  rival  to  take  his  way  home  at  his  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HOR. — "Have  after. — To  what  issue  will  this  come  ?" 
MAR. — "Something  is  rotton  in  the  state  of  Denmark." 
HOR. — "Heaven  will  direct  it." 

[Hamlet— Act  1st. 

The  lands  lying  in  Albany,  Rensselaer,  Schoharie,  Columbia,  Montgom- 
ery, Schenectady,  Ulster,  Greene,  Otsego,  Delaware  and  Sullivan  Counties, 
and  in  the  whole  State  of  New  York,  were  originally  granted  to  superior 
grandees  in  large  tracts  or 'manors  by  king  James  1st,  for  them  to  parcel 
out  to  a  tributary  tenantry.  Such  grants  were  consistent  with  the  princi- 
ples and  spirit  manifested  and  sustained  in  the  old  world.  The  revolution, 
however,  wrought  a  radical  change  in  the  feelings  of  men.  By  the  consti- 
tution all  men  were  declared  free  and  equal ;  the  sovereign  power  of  the 


16  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

States  was  restored  to  the  people  themselves ;  and  each  individual  at  a  law- 
ful age  became  a  part  of  that  sovereign  power.     This  as  before  expressed, 
wrought  a  healthful  change — the  yeomanry  alive  to  their  own  importance 
began  to  think  and  act  for  themselves — they  were  no  longer  slaves — their 
eyes  were  open,  and  the  light  that  broke  in  upon  their  minds  caused  them 
to  hate  and  repudiate  every  thing  that  reminded  them  of  the  galling  chains 
they  had  contrived  to  throw  off.     It  is  not  strange  then,  that  the  large 
landholders,  who,  by  joining  in  the  revolution   thus  secured  their  estates 
from  confiscation,  were  looked  up»n  by  their  numerous  tenantry  as  their 
tyrants.     But  they  were  men  (for  the  most  part,  of  principle — men  who, 
though  they  asserted  and  maintained  their  equality   as   citizens,    knew 
themselves  not  to  be  the  owners  of  the  soil,  and  were  content  to  look  for- 
ward to  the  day,  when  by  dint  of  industry  and  penny-savings  they  should 
have  accumulated  a  sufficient  sum  to  buy  off  their  landlords.     But  when 
that  day  came  round,  and  they  went  forward  as  many  of  them  did,  with  the 
effects  of  their  hard  toil  in  their  hands — they  were  repulsed  by  their  haugh- 
ty landlords.     This  had  the  tendency  to  awaken  feelings  of  hatred*on  the 
part  of  the  tenantry,  which  time  only  augmented.     They  had  other  causes 
of  complaint.     Many  of  the  tenantry  held  leases  for  a  stated  number  of 
years  ;  these  were  taken,  and  the  land  entered  under  them,  and  a  fair  equiv- 
alent in  rent  paid  therefor;  at  the  end  of  which  time,   the  farms  having 
doubled  in  value, — by  dint  of  the  tenant's  exertions — by  reclaiming  the 
soil,  by  building  fences,  and  erectiug  houses— all  done  by  their  own  indus- 
try, must  consent  to  pay  double  rent,  or  be  driven  from  their  homes,  where 
they  had  wasted  the  best  days  of  their  existence. 

And  again,  should  the  tenant  by  misfortune  be  unable  to  meet  his  bond, 
the  landlord  by  existing  laws,  can  issue  his  own  warrant — under  his  own 
seal — and,  his  own  exparte  testimony  is  all  that  is  required  for  him  to  es- 
tablish the  amount  due  to  himself ;  and  all  this  notwithstanding  the  con- 
stitution of  the  State  guarantees  to  every  citizen  the  right  of  trial  by  a  ju- 
ry of  his  country  in  all  suits  of  law,  both  civil  and  criminal.  Thus  was 
established  a  superiority  which  the  unfortunate  tenants  ill  could  brook. 
They  only  asked  to  be  placed  on  equal  grounds  with  their  more  favored 
neighbors;  and  for  this  purpose  petitioned  the  Legislature. 

They  asked  for  the  "passage  of  an  act  repealing  all  laws  granting  spe- 
cial privileges  to  Landlords  in  the  collection  of  their  rents,  so  that  they 
shall  be  permitted  to  use  and  enjoy  the  common  rights  of  other  creditors, 
in  the  collection  of  their  dues,  and  none  other." 

They  further  petitioned,  "for  the  passage  of  an  act  authorizing  tenants, 
when  prosecuted  for  rent,  to  set  up  as  a  defence  against  such  prosecutions, 
the  want  of  a  good  and  sufficient  title  to  the  premises  in  the  landlord  or 
prosecutor ;  and  that  such  defence  be  a  bar  to  any  recovery  against  such 
tenants  until  the  title  of  the  landlord  be  fully  established  ;^o  apply  in  the  ca- 

es  where  lands^iave  been  leased  for  a  long  series  of  years  or  in  perpetuity." 
s 


BIG  THUNDER.  19 

tude  of  person,  rising  and  taking  advantage  of  the  momentary  pause  in  the 
din  around,  "I  motion  we  have  a  song." 

"A  song,  a  song  !"  was  shouted  by  twenty  voices. 
"Who  will  do  us  the  favor  ?"  asked  the  fat  man. 

"Tiger-tail,  Tiger-tail!"  shouted  some;  "Rattlesnake, Rattlesnake, Rat- 
tlesnake," shouted  others. 
"Brothers !"  put  in  the  fat  man. 

"Oh,  you  be  d — d,  old  Grizzle !    You  are  always  shoving  forward  that 
precious  body  of  yours  !"  said  the  anatomy  of  a  man,  pulling  his.  more  gift- 
ed neighbor  by  the  sleeve;  "Rattlesnake   was  the  loudest  called  for ;  let 
him  speak  for  himself." 
Thus  rebuked  the  fat  man  sat  down. 

"Rattlesnake,  Rattlesnake !"  was  again  shouted  forth  on  all  hands. 
"Brothers,"  said  the  savage  called  for,  standing  up  in  his  place,  "I  feel 
more  like  biting  than  singing,  to-night;  let  Grizzly  Bear  sing  himself,  if  he 
must  have  music.     No  doubt  he  prefers  his  own  grow I  to  another's." 

"I  am  very  well  contented  with  it,  Mr.  Snake,  and  I  can  bite  too,  if  oc- 
casion requires,"  said  fatty,  "but,  as  Big  Thunder  has  not  arrived,  I  thought 
we  might  just  as  well  make  merry,  so  it  you  will  pass  me  the  bottle  there, 
I'll  wet  my  pipe,  and  then  give  ye  one  of  my  last  getting  up.:> 

Grizzly  Bear  after  taking  a  long  pull  at  the  bottle,  cleared  his  throat,  and 
thus  commenced : 

SONG. 

We  are  a  band  of  hearties,  boys, 
In  numbers  great  and  strong, 
We  discard  all  names  and  parties,  boys, 
To  none  we  will  belong. 

CHORUS. 

And  in  the  wood,  our  homes  shall  be, 
Away  from  law  and  labor  free, 
Huriah  !  hurrah  !   'tis  the  life  for  me  ; 
A  life  without  a  care. 

We  are  a  band  of  brothers,  boys, 

We  love  each  other  well, 

We'll  share  each  other's  woes  and  joys, 

And  in  unity  we'll  dwell. 

CHORUS. 

For  in  the  wood,  our  homes  shall  be, 
Away  from  law  and  labor  free, 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  'tis  the  life  for  me, 
A  life  without  a  care. 

The  chorus  was  joined  in,  by  all  present,  which  made  the  old  woods 
ring  again.  But  as  deafening  as  were  their  shouts,  there  was  another 
voice  heard  above  them  all,  rebuking  them  to  silence.  The  voice  was  that 
of  a  man,  who  had  that  moment  bounded  from  the  wood  into  their  very 
midst. 

"Come  ye  here  to  'make  night  hideous,'  with  your  everlasting  howling  ?" 


20  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

he  asked.  "Come  ye  here  to  spend  the  time  in  drunken  frolicking  appoint- 
ed for  necessary  deliberations  ?  For  shame !  let  us  have  no  more  of  it." 

"We  have  been  here  near  an  hour  ;  how  is  it  that  Big  ThunJer  has  just 
arrived  ?  How  has  he  spent  the  time  chosen  for  necessary  deliberations?" 
asked  Rattlesnake  in  a  slightly  sarcastic  tone. 

"I  was  necessarily  detained  on  private  business,  which  imports  you  not 
to  know.  I  am  ready  now  to  hear  of  any  business  that  may  come  before 
the  meeting."  Saying  which,  he  ascended  and  took  his  seat  upon  the  rude 
bench  before  described,  lacing  the  whole  assembly. 

Big  Thunder  was  dressed  more  becoming  the  taste  of  an  Indian,  than 
were  the  rest  of  the  band.  He  wore  a  pair  of  drab-colored  pants — mocca- 
sins of  deer-skin  upon  his  feet,  but  without  embroidery — a  sort  of  loose  sack 
of  blue  cloth  secured  at  the  waist  by  a  red  sash  tied  tightly  around  his  per- 
son, the  ends  hanging  in  even  folds  by  his  side.  ']  he  sack  was  thrown 
back  on  his  shoulders,  displaying  a  red  flannel  shirt  beneath,  fitting  closely 
around  the  neck,  forming  a  rich  contrast  with  the  dark  copper  color  of  his 
skin — upon  his  head  he  wore  a  crown  of  feathers,  to  constructed  as  to  en- 
tirely conceal  his  hair — his  face 'bore  the  expression  of  energy  and  decision 
of  character  amply  fitting  him  to  gorern  and  lead  the  band  now  present. 
Rattlesnake  was  first  to  address  the  meeting. 

"Brothers,"  he  said,  ''I  am  sorry  to  take  up  any  of  your  precious  time 
by  the  recital  of  private  wrongs ;  but  as  winter  is  coming,  the  necessity  of 
providing  for  my  houseless  family,  urges  me  to  it  at  this  time.  You  most 
of  you  know  that  by  a  series  of  misfortunes  I  was  unable  to  meet  my  rent 
last  spring,  thereby,  according  to  the  just  laws  of  our  Mate,  I  forfeited  the 
lease.  I  went  to  see  my  landlord,  represented  my  situation  to  him,  im- 
plored him  to  let  me  live  on  as  I  had  done,  promising  him  for  his  clemency 
not  only  every  dollar  his  due,  with  the  interest,  but  the  thanks  of  a  grate- 
ful family.  But  no !  he  knowing  that  he  could  rent  it  at  a  higher  price — 
knowing  that  the  land  had  doubled  in  value — doubled  by  my  own  exer- 
tions— made  rich  by  my  own  sweat  poured  forth  in  twenty  years  of  toil — 
laughed  at  me !  Aye  laughed  !  I  left  him  for  my  home,  and  as  I  drew  near 
that  poor,  though  comfortable  cabin,  reared  by  my  own  h;inds,  hallowed  by 
a  thousand  tender  recollections — think  not  meanly  of  me— I  wept  like  a 
boy.  There  for  nearly  twenty  years,  after  a  hard  day's  toil,  hard  though 
sweet  when  laboring  for  those  I  love,  I  found  a  resting-place  for  my  weary 
limbs,  and  as  proudly  as  a  king  I  slept  away  the  still,  peaceful  hours  of  the 
night,  for  it  was  my  home,  the  home  of  my  wife  and  children  ;  and  as  I 
thought  of  this  I  wept.  But  tears  brought  with  them  stern  resolves,  and  1 
swore  to  keep  it  still.  I  entered  my  cabin,  collected  together  all  my  stores, 
scarcely  sufficient  to  fill  the  mouths  of  my  wife  and  helpless  children  for  a 
month,  and  barred  my  door  against  the  invader.  But  alas!  in  the  eye  of 
the  law  I  was  a  criminal— they  came  to  me  in  numbers,  broke  into  my 
castle  and  carried  me  off  a  prisoner." 


BIG  THUNDER.  21 

i 

He  paused,  as  if  to  attest  the  sympathy  of  his  brethren  which  burst  forth 
in  exclamations  of  dire  revenge. 

"My  story  is  soon  told,"  continued  Rattlesnake.  "I  managed  to  escape 
from  my  captors,  regained  my  home,  where  I  found  my  wife  with  her  little 
ones,  in  the  greatest  distress  from  my  loss.  As  good  fortune  would  have 
it,  I  found  a  comfortable  home  for  my  family  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  but 
being  proscribed  myself,  and  fearing  to  be  retaken,  I  sought,  and  found  your 
band." 

"You  did,  you  did,"  echoed  from  twenty  voices. 

"That  was  six  months  ago,"  continued  Rattlesnake,  "but  I  often  in  the 
night  steal  to  the  spot  once  my  ho'  ic — a  spot  made  sacied  by  many  suf- 
ferings, as  well  as  by  the  cup  of  domestic  joy  tasted  to  its  overflow— and 
where  I  once  labored  and  loved,  I  knelt  in  prayer.  One  night,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  nearly  two  months,  wandering  I  scarcely  know  whither,  I  came 
upon  the  well-known  spot  of  my  old  home — but  the  cabin  which  had  cost 
me  so  many  years  to  erect,  was  gone,  giving  place  to  the  beautiful  cottage 
of  a  stranger — it  mocked  my  poor,  isolated  heart,  and  kneeling  upon  the 
green  earth,  I  swore  revenge  .'" 

"And  you  shall  have  it,"  exclaimed  Big  Thunder,  carried  away  by  the 
recital  of  his  brother's  wrongs. 

''Yes,  yes  !  revenge  !  revenge !"  rent  the  air  from  every  throat. 

"I  thank  you  all,  for  the  hearty  response,"  said  Rattlesnake  and  he  sat 
down. 

"What  business  comes  before  the  meeting  next  ?"  asked  the  chief. 

"So  please  ye,"  said  a  man  rising,  conspicuous  only  for  the  coat  he  wore, 
which  was  of  a  bright  scarlet  color  adorned  with  rows  of  metal  buttons,  "So 
please  ye,  brothers,  I  will  introduce  to  the  meeting  the  fellow  under  my 
charge,  the  deputy  sheriffof  Troy,  arrested  within  our  dominions  this  morn- 
ing, he  is  getting  to  be  a  little  troublesome,  will  Big  Thunder  see  him  now  ?" 

"You  may  bring  him  before  us!"  said  the  dignitary  addressed. 

Red-jacket  disappeared,  and  in  a  few  moments  returned  in  charge  of  dep- 
uty sheriff  Loper,  of  Troy,  his  feet  clogged  with  large  billets  of  wood,  and 
his  hands  bound  with  green  withes  behind  his  back.  Loper,  as  he  con- 
fronted Big  Thunder,  and  looked  arouud  taking  in  the  whole  of  that  dark 
group,  encountering  the  fixed  gaze  of  a  hundred  eyes,  returned  it  with  one  of 
hearty  defiance,  and  in  the  solit  ry  word  thai  escaped  his  lips,  "humph !" 
might  be  summed  up  the  utter  contempt  he  felt  for  their  whole  fraternity. 

"What  are  the  charges  brought  against  the  man  ?"  asked  the  Chief. 

"Brother  Big  Thunder,"  replied  Red-jacket,  with  some  elevation  of  per- 
son, "I  being  in  charge  of  the  party  which  took  him  prisoner  will  answer. 
As  we  were  passing,  (meaning  myself  and  party)  along  the  skirts  of  Rent- 
wood  forest,  bordering  on  old  Van  Shaack's  farm,  this  morning,  to  see  if 
all  was  quiet  in  that  neighborhood,  who  should  we  meet,  coming  across 
the  pastures  at  full  speed  on  horseback,  but  his  son  John,  who,  all  out  of 
breath  informed  us  that  there  was  an  officer  on  the  road  going  to  trouble 


22  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

his  father,  and  called  on  us  for  assistance.  I  just  stationed  my  men  on  the 
road,  when  who  should  come  along  but  this  feller.  We  very  civilly  stop- 
ped his  horse,  and  I  very  politely  asked  for  his  papers,  which  he  very  im- 
politely refused  to  give  up.  We  threatened  him  with  a  coat  of  tar,  which 
by  the  way  he  did'nt  seem  to  care  a  damn  about.  It  being  very  public 
where  we  were,  we  thought  it  best  to  move  him,  so  tying  his  hands  to  keep 
him  from  scratching,  and  putting  a  blinder  on  his  eyes,  we  brought  him 
along  and  put  him  in  the  lock-up."  ^ 

Red-jacket  having  got  through  with  his  story,  sat  down,  leaving  Loper 
standing  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  circle,  the  red  glare  ot  trie  fire  lighting 
up  his  proud  determined  face. 

"Have  you  any  papers  about  your  person  to  be  served,  as  but  now  charg- 
ed ?"  asked  Big  Thunder,  addressing  the  prisoner.  L'oper  made  no  reply, 
nor  by  look  showed  that  he  heard  the  question  addressed  to  him.  "Have 
you  papers  to  be  served  on  any  one,  within  our  dominion  ?"  again  asked 
Big  Thunder.  "Have  you  any  ears,  sir  ?  Have  you  no  answer  to  our  in- 
quiries ?" 

"I  have  no  answer  for  thee,  nor  such  as  thee,"  replied  the  sheriff. 

"We'll  see  to  that !" 

"By  what  authority  do  you  interrogate  me  ?"  haughtily  demanded  Loper. 

"By  the  authority  God  Almighty  has  given  to  his  people,  and  by  them 
invested  in  me,  their  chosen  leader." 

The  answer  was  unnoticed  by  Loper,  but  the  chief  saw  the  scornful  curl 
of  the  sheriS's  proud  lip,  which  roused  the  sleeping  tiger  within  him,  and 
springing  to  his  feet,  in  a  voice  of  thunder  he  demanded  of  the  sheriff  his 
papers. 

"My  hands  are  bound,"  replied  Loper,  "and  your  ruffians  can  take  them 
from  me  if  they  see  fit,  but  of  my  own  free  will,  never  !" 

"By  the  Eternal !  you  shall  suffer  for  this  insolence  !"  exclaimed  Big 
Thunder  his  lips  pale  with  rage,  "but,  first  search  his  person,. men." 

At  this  command,  several  moved  forward,  Grizzly  Bear  at  theii  head, 
upon  the  sheriff,  who  stepped  back,  two  or  three  paces  upon  his  clogs,  and 
like  a  cat  kept  his  eye  upon  the  enemy.  On  they  came,  the  portly  figure 
of  Grizzly  Bear  making  a  bold  front.  Loper  waited  till  they  were  suffi- 
ciently near,  when  darting  forward  with  all  his  strength,  he  planted  his 
head  in  the  abdomen  of  the  unfortunate  Bear,  and  rolled  him  upon  his  back. 
The  sheriff  sprang  forward  with  so  much  force  that  he  could  not  recover 
himself  and  coming  to  the  end  of  his  clogs,  his  feet  went  out  from  under 
him  and  he  fell  upon  his  face.  Before  he  could  regain  his  feet,  his  ene- 
mies were  upon  him,  who  proceeded  to  search  and  destroy  all  papers  in  his 
possession. 

While  this  was  going  on,  the  lean  gentleman,  who  went  by  the  tender 
name  of  "Sapling"  among  his  fellows,  was  bending  over  the  prostrate  body 
of  Grizzle,  and  condoling  with  him  in  his  fallen  state. 

"You  are  always  putting  forward  that  p  r  cc'cv?  led)  f  yours,"  he  said. 


BIG  THUNDER.  23 

"You  are  always  foremost  in  all  great  undertakings,  giving  your  breast  to 
the  storm — and  when,  as  now,  by  stern  late  you  receive  an  ungenerous 
blow,  you  are  silent  and  complain  not — a  happy  consolation  is  yours,  Griz- 
zle ;  you  are  a  martyr  in  a  glorious  cause." 

As  the  voice  of  a  loved  one  has  power  to  call  back  the  wandering  senses 
of  a  fainting  beauty,  so  revived  Grizzly  Bear  under  the  sofl  words  of  Sap- 
py ;  and,  opening  his  eyes  and  receiving  that  sympathizing  look,  he  straight 
forgot  the  injury  received  in  his  stomach. 

"Here,"  continued  Sapling,  presenting  the  bottle  to  Grizzly  Bear,  "take 
a  drop  for  thy  stomach's  sake." 

"Thank  ye,"  said  Grizzle,  after  a  hearty  suck  at  the  bottle,  I  feel  better, 
now." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Tigertail,  bear  a  hand  here,  and  help  up  brother 
Grizzle." 

Big  Thunder,  who  stood  by  watching  the  progress  of  the  search,  by  de- 
grees became  calm,  his  thoughts  flowing  in  smoother  channels.  When 
himself,  uninfluenced  by  his  bad  passions,  Big  Thunder  was  possessed  of 
noble  feelings,  and  could  appreciate  virtues  in  another.  He  knew,  was  he 
himself  deputy  sheriff,  he  should  have  acted  as  did  Loper,  and  the  thought 
awakened  respect  for  the  enemy  he  had  overpowered  by  numbers,  but  not 
conquered.  Calling  Rattlesnake  to  him,  in  a  low  voice  he  gave  him  his 
orders.  The  clogs  were  struck  off  from  Loper's  feet,  his  eyes  bandaged, 
and  in  this  manner  he  was  conducted  through  the  mazes  of  the  forest  for 
near  a  mile,  when  the  withes  were  removed  from  his  arms.  It  was  some 
minutes  before  Loper  could  command  his  arms  sufficiently  to  remove  the 
bandage  from  his  eyes.  On  looking  about  him,  he  was  in  the  edge  of  the 
wcod  that  skirted  the  road ;  the  Indians  had  gone,  but  there  stood  his  com- 
panion of  the  morning — his  trusty  horse. 


CHAPTER    V. 

"What  have  I  done  to  thee,  that  thou  shouldst  lift 
Thy  hand  against  me  ?  Wherefore  wouldst  thou  strike 
The  heart  that  never  wrong'd  thee  ?" 

[From  the  Yemassee. 

The  night  was  far  advanced,  but  the  moon  still  shone  from  her  western 
pyre,  throwing  her  rays  of  silver  light  across  old  Rentwood,  just  lighting 
up  the  roof  of  Von  Alstine's  cottage,  and  pouring  her  full  blaze  into  the 
gable  window  where  slept  Michael  Flynn  and  his  faithful  Tige.  Still  si- 


24  .  MARY  KALE :  OK, 

lence  reigned  around  the  house,  and  the  myriads  of  stars  looked  down,  like 
the  "Hundred-Eyed  Argus,"  keeping  watch  over  its  sleeping  inmates. 
Sleep  on  while  yet  you  may;  sleep,  but  let  thy  dreams  be  each  a  prayer,  a 
prayer  of  the  earnest  heart  commending  its  soul  to  God.  The  dog  had 
been  aroused  from  his  slumbers,  and  stood*  by  the  bedside  of  his  master, 
and  with  a  low  whine  broke  the  sleep  of  the  unconscious  Irishman.  Mi- 
chael, though  he  heard  the  low  moan  ot  the  dog,  it  was  half  in  his  dreams, 
and  he  tried  to  forget  it  and  sleep  on.  But  it  still  sounded  in  his  ears,  and 
losing  his  habitual  patience,  he  started  up  in  bed. 

"By  the  powers,  Misthur  Tige  !  it  is  very  oncivil  in  ye,  to  be  wakin'  up  a 
poor  divil  at  this  time  o'  night,  whin  he'd  be  afthur  slapin'  with  the  hilp  of 
the  blissid  virgin  ;  it  is,  altogether  intirely.  Go  to  bed  yer  spalpeen,  and 
don't  be  afthur  disturbin'  good  Christians  with  yer  blarney." 

Thus  saying,  he  betook  himself  to  his  slumbers  again.     For  a  few  min- 
utes the  dog  was  still,  but  not  long;  and  when  he  took  up  the  strain  again, 
it  savored  well  of  a  growl.     This  was  more  than  flesh  aad  blood  could  bear. 
"Yer  enough  to  make  a  saint  swear,  ye  are  ye  divil  /"  cried  the  incensed 
Irishman.     "By  all  the  saints,  and  St.  Patrick  to  boot,  I've  a  mind  to  bate 

ye ;  ye  bogtrotter  to  bed  wid  ye,  or  I'll what  the  divil  was  that  ? 

Did  ye  hear  ony  thin'  Misthur  Tige  ?"     The  dog's   answer  was  a  sharp 
growl.     "By  my  throth,  I  thought  so." 

Springing  out  of  bed,  Michael  approached  the  window  and  looked  out. 
Dim  figures  were  seen  moving  in  the  distant  shadow  of  Rentwood,  and  as 
he  gazed,  a, feeling  of  superstitious  awe,  so  common  to  his  countrymen, 
crept  over  him,  and  chained  him  to  the  spot.  Each  shadow  as  it  passed 
before  his  vision,  brought  back  some  almost  forgotten  tale  of  his  childhood ; 
some  tale  toid  by  his  mother,  when  seated  by  the  smouldering  turf  fire,  of 
the  spirits  of  another  world  come  back  to  haunt,  or  warn  us  of  impending 
danger,  till  his  feelings  wrought  up,  pictured  a  ghost  in  every  shadow  cast 
upon  the  floor;  and  the  feeling  then  was  present  with  him  now;  and  the 
low  whine  of  the  dog  too,  who  is  supposed  to  feel  the  approach  of  an  un- 
earthly visiter,  had  its  own  peculiar  meaning,  and  tended  none  the  less  to 
allay  his  fears.  • 

St.  Patrick  defend  us!"  he  exclaimed,  crossing  himself,  "who  iver  seed 
the  like  afore?  Let  us  pray  Misthur  Tige;  git  down  ye  divil,  and  pray 
with  all  yer  ploody  might." 

The  red  glare  of  a  torch  borne  in  the  hands  of  a  man  just  beneath  the 
window,  attracted  his  attention,  and  broke  the  spell.  It  was  something 
tangible,  something  he  could  understand,  and  turned  his  fears  into  another 
channel.  Quickly  dressmg  himself,  he  left  his  room  followed  by  Tige,  and 
as  he  stepped  upon  the  stairs,  a  strong  scent  of  smoke  met  his  senses,  and 
he  could  distinctly  hear  the  sharp  snapping,  as  of  burning  wood.  Quick- 
ening his  steps  he  rushed  down  stairs,  and  into  his  master's  room.  George 
awoke  from  a  sound  sleep,  started  wildly  up,  and  asked  to  know  the  matter. 
"An'  we've  got  a  fire  here,  sir  !" 


BIG  THUNDER.  .  25 

"A  fire !" 

"Yes,  as  shure  as  hell's  blazes,  yer  honor  !  on  there's  mony  a  divil  all 
all  around  us,  ootside,"  he  continued  as  George  hurried  on  his  clothes,  "the 
wood  is  full  of  them,  yer  honor." 

"The  blood-thirsty  savages  !"  exclaimed  George,  catching  up  his  gun  that 
lay  by  his  bedside,  "If  they  think  to  murder  us  they  shall  fight  for  it.." 

Rushing  into  the  enfry,  he  there  encountered  Von  Alstine  and  his  terri- 
fied wife  in  the:r  night-clothes,  aroused  by  the  outcry  of  Michael,  and'also 
knowing  their  danger  from  their  sleeping  rooms  being  in  close  proximity 
to  the  fire.  All  for  a  while  was  confusion,  disorder  reigning  supreme. 
One  ran  here,  another  there,  all  giving  orders  which  no  one  understood, 
and  the  only  things  definite  were,  that  they  were  surrounded  by  a  gang  of 
blood-thirsty  outlaws,  and  the  housp  was  burning  down  over 'their  heads. 
But  as  all  things  most  violent,  soonest  spend  themselves,  so  it  proved 
now;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Von  Alstine,  as  there  was  no  immediate  danger 
from  the  fire,  by  George's  advice,  changed  their  night-dresses  for  others 
more  fitting  to  encounter  the  night  air.  The  fire  had  been  set  in  an  ell, 
from  the  back  of  the  house,  and  though  it  raged  witli  violence,  it  had  not 
yet  reached  the  main  building.  The  wind  .came  fresh  from  that  quarter, 
and  the  flames  rushed,  quirling  and  hissing  like  a  thousand  devils,  vomit- 
ing from,  their  mouths  like  red  hot  missals,  all  light  combustible  matter, 
borne  on  the  wings  off  the  wind.  On  came  the  devouring  element,  and  as 
it  swept  over  the  main  roof,  a  loud  shout  from  those  without  told  it  to  the 
sufferers  within,  who  were  congregated  in  the  main  entry  by  the  outer 
door.  The  flames  now  breaking  through  into  their  last  retreat,  lighting 
the  room  with  their  lurid  glare  warned  them  that  they  were  no  longer  safe. 
Something  must  be  done.  George  advised  going  forth  and  fighting  their 
way  through,  but  was  overruled  by  Mr.  Von  Alstine,  who  thought  it  best 
to  make  no  show  of  defence. 

"It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  they  intend  an  assault  upon  us,"  he  said, 
'•and  by  meeting  them  with  hostile  weapons,  they  may  be  forced  to  do 
what  they  would  gladly  avoid." 

"You  do  not  know  them,  my  friend !" 

"What  motive  can  they  have,  George  ?" 

"The  same  that  led  them  to  burn  the  house  down  over  our  heads,  re- 
venge !" 

"I  do  not  think  they  strike  at  our  lives,  besides,  it  would  be  madness  to 
contend  against  such  odds.  Let  us  go  out  then,  as  we  should  if  they  were 
not  here,  and  leave  it  to  the  moment  to  decide  our  actions." 

George  yielding  the  point,  though  much  against  his  will,  unbarred  the 
door  and  went  out  followed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Von  Alstine,  Michael  and  the 
dog  bringing  up  the  rear.  These  four,  not  to  mention  the  dog,  were  all  of 
the  family  present,  as  their  only  maid-servant  was  absent  from  home  for 
the  night;  and  as  they  left  the  burning  house,  the  loud  wild  whoop  from 
the  Indians  as  they  came  rushing  up  the  hill,  would  have  struck  terror  to 


26  MARY  KALE:  OR, 

hearts  less  stout  than  theirs.  On  marched  the  little  band,  Mrs  Von  A!  - 
stine  holding  her  place  by  her  husband's  fide,  with  all  that  fortitude  and 
strength  of  mind  ever  calls  to  her  aid  in  great  emergencies,  not  in  the  least 
trying  to  avoid  the  Indians,  who  when  they  saw  that  determined  little 
front,  halted.  The  dog  Tige  would  have  rushed  upon  the  assailants,  but 
was  restrained  by  Michael. 

"Seek  ye  our  lives?"  asked  Von  Alstine,  the  first  to  break  the  awful  si- 
lence. 

"No !"  was  the  quick  reply  of  the  Chief! 

"Why  then  are  you  here  ?"  demanded  George.  / 

"To  enforce  the  laws  of  our  realm!"  replied  the  same  voice. 

"Your  realm!"  said  George  sarcastically,  "how  far  does  your  Clubdom 
extend?" 

"Over  all  oppressed  by  the  relentless,  tyrannical  Landlord"  haughtily 
replied  Big  Thunder. 

"And  to  enforce  your  laws,  is  it  necessary  to  burn  down  the  dwellings  oi 
defenceless  citizens  ?"  asked  Von  Alstine,  sternly. 

"It  is  necessary  for  our  revenge,  old  man  !  fiercely  answered  the  Chief. 

"Revenge  becomes  dogs  such  as  thou  !"  retorted  the  old  man  in  the  same 
tone. 

"Another  such  a  word  and  ye  die,  dotard  !" 

"Husband !  husband !"  shrieked  the  now  terrified  woman,  clinging  to 
Von  Alstine's  arm,  ''tempt  him  not!  tempt  him  not!" 

"Do  not  fear  him,  Madeline  !"  said  the  old  man.  "Dogs  that  bark  the 
loudest,  seldom  bite !" 

"Hell's  furies  seize  thee  !"  vociferated  Big  Thunder,  and  the  bright  blade 
glittering  in  the  moon-beams  descended  with  unerring  aim,  and  Von  Al- 
stine fell  a  corpse.  One  wild  shriek  filled  the  air,  and  came  back  from  the 
woods  in  a  hundred  echoes  telling  the  tale  of  double  murder,  and  the  dis- 
tracted wife  fell  upon  the  prostrate  body  of  her  murdered  husband. 

So  unlocked  for  was  this  tragic  end,  that  all  stood  spell-bound,  each  held 
by  surprise;  and  even  Big  Thunder  felt  its  power,  being  the  first  to  break 
the  silence,  muttering,  "it  cannot  be  helped,  he  would  have  it  so."  These 
words  broke  the  spell. 

"Hell-hound,  I  know  thee  now !"  shrieked  George,  rushing  upon  the 
Chief,  with  no  weapons,  save  the  ten  that  nature  gave,  and  with  them  he 
grappled  the  savage  by  the  throat. 

"Die!  die!  die.]  for  the  death  thou  hast  given !"  and  at  each  emphatic 
word  he  sunk  his  fingers  deeper  into  the  broad  neck  of  the  chief.  Michael 
darted  forward  to  the  help  of  his  master,  received  a  blow  from  a  huge  club 
in  the  hands  of  Rattlesnake,  which  felled  him  senseless  to  the  enrth.  The 
dog  sharing  the  same  fate,  Big  Thunder  and  George  were  left  to  fight  their 
battle  alone  ;  the  Indians  standing  around,  watching  the  issue  with  a  jeal- 
ous eye.  So  unexpectedly  was  George  upon  his  adversary,  that  he  was 
not  prepared  f6*r  him ;  and  with  superhuman  strength,  lent  him  by  the 


BIG  THUNDER.  27 

avenging  angel,  he  riveted  his  fingers  upon  the  neck  of  the  monster  chief. 
Together  they  reeled,  and  each  moment  the  strength  of  the  Indian  grew 
weaker  and  weaker,  and  with  one  last  effort  to  free  himself  from  his  ene- 
my, he  fell.  George  lost  not  his  hold,  and  griping  still,  the  face  of  his  vic- 
tim grew  purple,  then  black,  then  came  the  rattle  in  the  throat  preceding 
death,  and  in  a  few  moments  all  would  have  been  over  when  an  Indian 
darted  forward  and  buried  his  steel  deep  into  the  conqueror's  back.  His 
hands  released  their  hold ;  he  raised  himself  up  and  with  the  name  of  God 
upon  his  lips — fell  backwards. 

When  we  last  saw  deputy  sheriff  Loper,  he  was  with* his  horse  at  the 
wood- side.  Do  not  suppose,  kind  reader,  that  he  has  been  standing  there 
ever  since.  God  and  the  author  forbid  !  for  the  night  was  too  keen  an  one, 
to  stand  idly  long.  Loper  was  a  man  of  few  words,  but  of  stirring  thoughts 
and  actions;  and  the  opposition  that  he  met  with,  and  the  subsequent  ill 
treatment  received  at  the  hands  of  the  disguised  "anti-renter*,"  not  only 
made  him  the  more  thoroughly  determined  to  do  his  duty,  but  to  do  what 
he  could  towards  breaking  up  their  lawless  band.  Mounting  his  horse, 
therefore,  he  turned  towards  the  city.  A  smart  ride  of  two  hours  brought 
him  to  Gen.  Windsor's  head  quarters,  where  were  collected  under  arms 
some  two  hundred  volunteers  under  his  command.  Making  known  to 
Gen.  Windsor  the  outrage  committed  upon  his  person,  and  as  well  as  he 
was  able,  the  place  of  council,  the  strong  hold  of  the  Indians,  he  urged  the 
necessity  of  immediate  action,  if  he  would  take  them  without  bloodshed. 
Gen.  Windsor  readily  consented,  and  long  before  the  day  dawned,  at  the 
head  of  two  hundred  well-armed,  well-mounted  men,  accompanied  by 
Loper,  started  for  G . 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"For  love  and  war  are  twins,  and  both  are  made 
Of  stange  passion,  which  misleads  the  sense, 
And  makes  the  feeling  madness.     Thus  they  grow, 
The  thorn  and  flower  together,  wounding  oft, 
When  most  seductive." 

[From  the  Yemassee. 

Michael  opened  his  eyes  with  astonishment.  How  came  he  here  ?  How 
was  it  he  had  been  sleeping  with  no  covering  over  him  but  the  broad  can- 
opy of  heaven  ?  Was  he  dreaming*?  He  would  know — and  applying  his 
finger  between  his  teeth,  he  gave  it  no  very  gentle  bite.  "Oh  !"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  sharp  pain  in  his  head,  caused  by  the  movement  of  his  jaws 


28 


MARY  KALE :  OR, 


(to  say  nothing  of  the  finger,)  "Oh  !  I  remember  now !"  and  he  piessed  his 
hands  upon  his  brow.  He  lay  a  moment  to  assure  himself  he  was  safe, 
when  he  became  convinced  he  was  not  alone.  There  was  something  near 
him;  something  possessed  of  life,  for  he  could  distinctly  hear  its  regular 
breathing.  Was  it  one  of  the  Indians  remaining?  He  would  lay  still  and 
see.  Presently  something  touched  his  head;  something  damp  and  cold, 
which  caused  a  cold  shudder  to  pass  through  his  frame.  It  was  most  prob- 
ably one  of  the  anti-renters,  who  would  despatch  him  if  he  saw  returning 
life.  He  hadn't  long  to  think  of  his  awkward  situation,  when  something 
like  a  warm,  wet,  fleshy  substance  passed  over  his  face.  There  was  no 
mistaking  that ;  ke  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  flavor,  scent  and  ap- 
plication to  mistake  it. 

^  "By  the  powers,  Misther  Tige  !"  pxclaimed  Michael,  turn  ing  over  to  the 
dog,  "let  me  niver  git  oot  or  pargathory  if  I  didn't  thiak   ye  was  one  or 
thim  divil's  own.     How  long  have  we  been  here  Tige  ?   I  feel  mighty  cool 
like  all  over  noo,"  he  continued,  snuggling  closer  to  the  dog.     "Have  thim 
bogtrotters  all  cleared  oot  ?  By  St.  Pathrick,  the  divil's  shillela  was  hard- 
hur  nor  my  head,  ony  how.     I  should  jist  like  aboot  at  his  own  ugly  mug, 
an' if  I  didn't  bate  him  handsume,   thin  thea's  no  snakes  in  Ameriky. 
Where's  masthur,  honey,  and  all  the  rist  of  the  poor  divil's  ot  us  ?  Are  we 
all  dead,  an'  more  too  ?  Och  !  he's  not  the  boy  to  rin  whin  his  own  pad- 
dy's  doon  !  I'll  be  afthur  seem'  noo  !"  With  some  difficulty,  benuinned  as 
he  was  with  the  cold,  Michael  rose  to  his  feet,  and  the  scene  that  presen- 
ted itself,  was  horrible  in  the  extreme.     There  lay  the  old  man  Alstine, 
his  pale  rigid  face  turned  towards  heaven,  as  if  in  leave-taking  of  the  spirit 
that  had  gone;  the  red  current  of  his  heart's  blood  clotted  upon  his  bosom, 
while  across  his  body  lay  the  body  of  a  woman,  cold  and  stiff;  in  life  they 
walked  together,  and  in  death  they  were  not  parted.     That  one  fatal  step 
reached  the  life  of  both.     The  scene  stirred  up  the  depths  of  Michael's  feel- 
ings, and  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes.     "Don't  be  afthur  laffin'  at  me,  Mis- 
thur  Tige,"  he  said,  "for  pon  my  sowl  its  ner  a  laffin'  matthur,  not  a  bit 
of  it.     It's  not  ofthen  that  I  cries,  honey  ;  but  some  hoo  I  can't  help  it  noo; 
and  if  yer  was  a  Christian  dog,  yer'd  blubber  too,  ye  would,  ye  divil,"  and 
he  shook  the  large  drops  from  his  eyes.     "But  here  I  am  with  my  blarney, 
whin  my  poor  masthur's  no  where  to  be  found  !  Faith  here's  his  hon- 
or's hat,  though  that's  not  much   without  himself;  O'  he's  kilt,  he's  kilt ! 
and  here's  his  spacheless  blood  a  cryin'  to  me  from,  the  ground!  Och  he's 
kilt,  he's  kilt,  an'  they  carried  him  off  body  and  sowl!  Och,  that  I  should 
iver  come  to  Ameriky  to  see  my  masthur  kilt  and  carried  off  before  my 
eyes,  and  not  see  a  bit  of  it,"  and  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground  beside 
his  dog.     "Ah,  Misthur  Tige,"  he  continued,  looking  his  dog  pityingly  in 
the  face,  "we  are  two  helpless  and  disarted  mortals,  we  are  ;  with  no  mas- 
thur to  take  care  of  us ;  with  nobody  to  give  us  nothin'  to  eat,  an'  a  clean 
shirt  to  our  backs;  Misthur  Tige,  we  are  two  poor,  dear  desarted  mortals, 


BIG  THUNDER.  29 

we  are  indeed  !"  And  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  he  gave  way  to  his 
utter  feeling  of  loneliness. 

It  was  early  morning;  and  the  eastern  sky  was  again  lighted  up  with 
the  near  approach  of  the  king  of  day  ;  and  as  the  scene  brightened,  desola- 
tion stood  forth.     The  fire  had  done  its  work ;  bnt  still  it  sent  up  its  dark 
volumes  of  smoke,  which  as  it  ascended  heavenward,  grew  brighter  and 
more  transparent,  till  it  tost  itself,  commingling  with  the   clouds.     From 
behind  the  pile,  like  a  Pho3nix  from  its  ashes,  came  forth  a  man  and  ap- 
proached the  scene  of  murder.     His  face  was  pale  and  haggard,  and  as  h* 
stood  with  arms  folded  across  his  breast  gazing  upon  the  cold  remains  be- 
fore him,  his  whole  frame  thook  from  intense  inward  feelings.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  became  calmer,  however,  and  inly  muttered;  "  'Tis  nothing  af- 
ter all  !  death  is  with  us,  and  around  us;  it  comes  to  us  in  infancy,  boy- 
hood, manhood  and  old  age;  why  should  we  fear  it?  Why  tremble  to  look 
upon  it  ?  Why  move  us  in  one  form  more  than  in  another  ?  If  it  comes  to 
the  infant,  and  steals  away  its  early  breath  when  sleeping  upon  its  moth- 
er'r  lap,  so  noiseless  in  its  tread,  that  she  hears  not  its  grim  approach,  but 
looking  upon  her  darling,  fancies  it  sleeps  still,  does  she  tremble  ?  And  yet 
it  is  death  !  If  it  comes  to  the  grey-headed  old  man,  ripe  in  years  ;*with 
scarce   the  strength  of  infancy  laying  himself  down  to  die—whose  feeble 
breath  like  the  expiring  lamp,  burns  flickering  on  till  all's  consumed  it 
feeds  upon  ;  his  soul  leaving  its  frail  tenement  with  a  tread  so  gentle,  that 
ye  know  not  when  Time  ends,  and  Eternity  begins;  still  it  is  death!  'tis 
only  death  I  look  upon  now."     He  started  from  his  reveries  and  his  face 
lit  tip  with  a  proud  smile  as  his  eyes  fell  on  a  .body  of  mouuted  men  win- 
ding their  way  up  the  hill.     Approaching  the  road  side,  he  awaited  their 
coming.     The  sun  had  now  broke  over  the  hills,  shedding  its  smiles  o'er 
man  and  beast,  making  glad  their  hearts,  after  a  gloomy  ride  of  two  hours 
over  a  hard  road.     Before  reaching  the  brow  of  the  hill,  Gen.  Windsor 
called  to  halt,  and  consulted  with  Loper  upon  the  expediency  of  entering 
the  forest  at  that  point,  instead  of  half  a  mile  further  on  where  the  Sheriff 
was  left  by  the  Indians  the  preceding  night.     While  they  were  discussing 
this  point,  the  individual  that  we  have  seen  bending  over  the  remains  of 
the  unfortunate  victims  of  the  last  night's  murder,  came  slowly  down  the 
hill  and  approached  them. 

"You  seek  Big  Thunder  and  his  men  ?"  he  said,  addressing  Loper. 
"We  do.    Can  yoB  guide  us  to  their  place  of  concealment  ?" 
"Truly  I  cannot,  though  report  says  it  is  somewhere  in  Rentwood  for- 
est," replied  the  stranger. 

"It  speaks  truth,  as  I  can  testify,"  snid  Loper,  "but  their  exact  -wherea- 
bouts is  what  we  would  know.  A  man  might  spend  a  week  in  this  inter- 
minable wood,  and  still  be  none  the  wiser." 

"One  man,  I  grant  ye,"  said  the  stranger,  "but  with  your  number,  you 
would  soon  riddle  out  their  hiding-place ;  or  rather,  you  would  easily  find 
where  they  sometimes  hold  their  meetings  ;  but  I  fear  you  would  not  find 


30  MARY  KALE  :   OR, 

Big  Thunder  or  his  men.     It  is  said  they  meet  only  at  stated  times,  and 
always  in  the  night." 

"That  is  unfortunate,  indeed  ;"  said  Loper,  thoughtfully, 

"I  know  not  what  step  to  pursue.  If  I  could  only  secure  their  leader  ; 
did  you  ever  see  him?"  He  asked,  addressing  the  stranger. 

"1  never  had  that  pleasure,  sir." 

"You  sa»v  him  last  night,  Loper  ?"  said  Gen.  Windsor. 

"Yes,  but  it  was  when  he  was  in  his  kingdom  come,  decked  out  in  paint 
and  feathers.  I  should  recognize  nothing  but  his  form ;  he  is  about  this 
man's  size." 

'•  1'ou  do  me  great  honor,  sir  !  You  flatter  me  !"  said  the  stranger,  bow- 
ing. 

"That,  is  as  you  may  think  of  it,"  replied  Loper. 

"Does  no  one  guess  who  he  is,  about  here?"  Asked  Windsor. 

"We  have  our  thoughts,  sir,"  replied  the  stranger,  "but  we  are  no-wise 
certain  of  any  thing.  It  is  far  easier  to  trace  their  works,  than  them,"  he 
said,  pointing  to  the  smoking  ruins  on  the  hill. 

"The  incarnate  fiends  !  is  that  their  work  ?" 

"I  grieve  to  confess  it,  sir;  and  would  to  God  the  evil  stopped  here;  but 
they  have  added  murder  to  incendiarism  !" 

"What  mean  you  ?"  Asked  Loper  and  Windsor,  in  a  single  breath. 

"Follow  me  and  you  shall  see !"  And  he  led  them  up  the  hill  in  front  of  • 
the  house,  where  wtre  now  collected  some  half-a-dozen  neighbors,  their  fa- 
ces expressive  of  the  deepest  sorrow  and  concern. 

"This  is  sorry  work,  Mr.  Huss,"  said  an  old  man,  addressing  the  stran- 
ger, accompanying  Loper  and  Windsor. 

"It  is,  indeed !"  he  replied,  "and  calls  for  immediate  action  on  the  part 
of  the  law.  I  have  sympathized  with  them  heretofore,  because  I  believed 
them  oppressed,  but  when  they  seek  to  plead  their  cause  by  the  spilling  of 
innocent  blood,  1  have  no  part  with  them." 

"Is  there  no  way  to  get  hold  of  the  perpetrators  of  this  horrid  deed?" 
asked  Loper. 

"I  trust  so  in  time,"  answered  the  old  man,  "here's  a  fellow,  that 
knows  something  of  it,  though  all  that  we  can  get  out  of  him  is,  that  he 
is  a  poor  deserted  mortal,  and  that  the  Indians  have  carried  oil  his  master." 

"Who  is  your  master?"  asked  Loper,  addressing  Michael,  who  still  sat 
upon  the  grouud,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

'  "Who  should  it  be,  but  his  honor  Misthur  George  Arlin,  Esquire!  But 
he  is  kilt  noo,  rest  his  sowl ;  an'  the  divils  have  carried  him  ofl  sowl  and 
body,"  he  continued  to  himself,  as  if  thinking  aloud. 

"I  think  I  have  a  key  that  will  unravel  a  part  of  this  mystery  at  least;" 
said  Huss.  "It  is  evident  that  this  fellow's  master  has  shared  the  fate  of 
the  others,  which  leads  me  to  guess  at  the  author.  This  George  Arlin  was 
enamored  of  the  daughter  of  one  of  my  nearest  neighbors,  John  Kale.  It 
is  also  known  to  me  that  the  old  man  disapproved  of  his  attentions  ;  and 
in  fact,  not  long  since  I  heard  the  old  man  threaten  him  with  the  direst 
vengeance,  if  lie  again  darkened  his  doors.  John  £rJe  would  keep  his 
word.  I  merely  surmise  this,  neighbors;  nothing  more." 

"Would  it  not  be  well  to  search  this  Kale's  house?"  suggested  Gen. 
Windsor,  "you  may  find  something  to  strengthen  your  suspicions." 

"Be  that  my  task,"  said  Loper,  "while  you  scour  the  I'orest  for  those 
pests  of  society,  "Big  Thunder,"  and  his  men.  Mr.  Huss,  will  you  accom- 
pany me  on  this  disagreeable  errand  ?" 

"I  must  refuse,  in  consideration  of  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Kale,"  said  Huss. 
"It  will  pain  hini  less  to  receive  a  visit  from  a  stranger,  than  from  his  own 
neighbors,  besides,  I  have  a  duty  to  perform  here,  the  dead  must  be  bu- 
ried. *-. 


BIG  THUNDER.  31 

Leaving  the  scene  of  murder  with  two  picked  men,  Loper  took  his  way 
towards  the  cottage  of  farmer  Kale.  We  will  precede  him  by  a  few  min- 
utes, and  look  in  upon  its  humble  inmates. 

Mary  entered  the  room  where  slept  her  mother.  She  was  not  yet  up  ; 
she  was  old,  and  her  health  poor  at  best,  but  this  morning  she  looked  pa- 
ler than  usual,  and  when  her  daughter  approached  her  bed,  she  louked  up 
into  her  face,  not  less  pale  and  troubled  than  her  own,  and  inquired,  "has 
he  returned,  Mary." 

"Not  yet,  dear  mother  !  but  do  not  be  alarmed,  he'll  come  before  long, 
surely  ;  he  may  have  gone  to  town  to  sell  his  wheat,  and  buy  our  winter 
stores,"  suggested  the  girl,  with  a  faint  attempt  at  cheating  her  mother  of 
her  too  well-grounded  fears. 

"He  never  would  go  to  the  city  without  apprising  me  of  his  purpose,  and 
just  at  night  too ;"  sail  the  mother.  "He  never  staid  away  from  home  all 
night  before ;  and  this  horrid  night !  when  the  Indians  have  been  abroad, 
to  burn  and  destroy  !  I  fear  the  worst,  Mary  !"  And  the  unhappy  woman 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Mary  did  not  dare  to  trust  herself  to  reply,  for  she  felt  her  voice  would 
betray  her  own  feelings.  She  knew  that  her  father  sympathised  greatly 
with  the  Anti-renters;  but  he  had  promised  her  repeatedly  that  he  would 
engage  in  none  of  their  schemes  for  revenge.  She  knew,  too,  that  her 
father  hated  the  aristocratic  Van  Alstine  with  all  his  soul,  but  she  believed 
as  well,  that  his  naturally  good  heart  would  not  allow  him  to  engage  in  an 
outrage  like  that  of  last  night,  even  to  revenge  himself  upon  his  deadliest 
foe.  The  preceding  night,  when  her  father  had  led  her  from  the  arbor  to 
the  house,  he  left  her  at  the  door  without  a  word  of  explanation  ;  and  when 
ten  o'clock  came  round,  and  he  had  not  yet  come  home,  a  vague  fear  siez- 
ed  her  that  he  might  have  been  persuaded  by  their  seductive  arguments,  to 
join  the  anti-renters  in  their  midnight  revels.  Her  mother  seemed  to  partake 
of  the  same  iear,  and  as  the  slow  hours  of  the  night,  one  after  another  pass- 
ed away,  the  poor  woman  became  almost  frantic.  The  scene  that  follow- 
ed, the  burning  of  Van  Alstine's  cottage,  which  could  be  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance, served  to  excite  their  feelings  still  more — fear  for  the  husband  and 
father's  safety,  and  pity  for  those  deprived  of  house  and  home.  They  knew 
not,  alas!  that  they  were  beyond  the  reach  of  pity.  Thus  the  long  hours 
of  the  night  passed  away,  and  morning  came  without  bringing  them  relief. 
Mrs.  Kale  had  gone  to  bed  entirely  exhausted,  while  Mary  still  watched 
axiously  for  her  fathergs  return.  The  morning  was  passing  rapidly  away 
but  still  no  father  returned,  and  Mary,  heart-sick,  entered  her  mother's 
room. 

The  good  woman  brightened  up  at  the  sight  of  her  daughter,  hoping  she 
had  good  news,  but  finding  it  to  the  contrary,  gave  way  to  her  feelings  as 
we  have  described.  Mary  stood  over  her  until  she  became  more  calm 
when  she  said, 

"We  ought  not  to  judge  too  harshly  of  father,  dear  mother ;  he  may  have 
been  kept  from  home  by  some  accident  to  himself,  and  still  be  innocent  of 
what  we  fear." 

"God  grant  it  may  be  so,  and  send  him  home  in  health,"  fervently  ejac- 
alated  the  old  lady.  There  was  a  rap  at  the  outer  door  !  "Quick,  quick, 
Mary  !  it  may  be  some  one  from  your  father !" 

Mary  left  her  mother's  room  for  the  kitchen,  and  there  stopped  a  moment 
to  collect  herself.  The  knock  was  repeated.  Pressing  her  hand  on  her 
heart  as  if  to  afford  it  strength,  she  opened  the  outer  dour. 

"Is  Mr.  Kale  at  home  ?"  asked  Loper,  for  it  was  he  outside  with  his 
men. 


32  MARY  KALE  ;   OR, 

"No,  sir  ;  he  has  been  absent  the  whole  night !"  answered  Mary,  with 
child-like  simplicity. 

"We  feared  it !"  said  Loper. 

"What  have  I  said  !"  she  exclaimed,  a  deep  pallor  overspreading  her  face, 
at  her  imprudence — but  it  was  too  late  now,  and  a  faintness  came  over  her 
frame  as  she  asked,  "know  you  anything  of  him,  sir  ?" 

"We  have  not  seen  him  yet,  lady  !"  answered  Loper,  touched  hy  the  an- 
guish pictured  on  her  face,  "Van  Alstine — " 

"Yes,  yes  !  they  have  burned  down  his  cottage  ;  but  my  father  was  not 
there!"  she  almost  shrieked,  "He  never  could  have  done  that — he  was 
good,  and  never  wronged  any  one  !  He  was  poor,  it  is  true — but  he  never 
joined  the  Indians!  be  sure  he  was  not  there,  sir !"  and  she  bowed  her  head 
into  her  hands  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"Pray  God  he  h.is  done  nothing  worse  !"  said  Loper,  the  drops  stand- 
ins:  in  his  own  eyes,  but  Mary  did  not  hear  the  remark,  made  so  low.  He 
watched  the  poor  girl's  grief  with  heart-felt  commiseration.  That  fair  bo- 
som, heaving  with  its  inward  anguish — that  slight  and  delicate  form,  bow- 
ed with  the  agony  of  grief,  touched  his  very  soul,  and  found  an  echo  in  the 
hearts  of  the  two  men  beside  him.  But  they  had  a  duty  to  perform  at  all 
costs,  however  revolting  to  their  feelings.  ''We  shall  be  under  the  neces- 
sity of  searching  the  house,"  said  Loper,  with  an  effort  to  command  him- 
self. 

"Not  for  my  father,  for  truly  he  is  not  here  !"  said  Mary,  raising  her 
eyes  still  swimming  in  tears,  "Ah  !  he  is  safe  !  he  is  safe  !  she  exclaimed, 
rushing  into  the  arms  of  the  old  man  that  moment  coming  up  at  the  door. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mary?" 

"Do  not  ask  me,  father  !" 

Kale  looked  to  Loper  and  his  men  for  an  explanation,  but  they  either  did 
not  understand  the  look,  or  did  not  choose  to  answer.  Kale  impatiently 
asked, 

"Whajt  is  your  business  here  ?" 

"Our  business  is  with  you,  sir !"  answered  Loper  evasively. 

"Oh,  doubtless  !  and  not  finding  me,  you  so  far  forgot  your  manhood,  as 
to  frighten  my  daughter  with  your  big  words.  Go  into  the  house,  girl," 
he  continued,  lending  his  daughter  towards  the  house  ;  but  she  clung  to  him 
and  would  not  be  separated  from  him,  "What's  all  this,  Mary  ?"  A  sob 
was  his  answer,  and  he  turned  to  Loper  again,  "Come,  sir,  let  us  hear  your 
business." 

Loper  hesitated.  He  had  no  doubt  from  what  he  saw,  and  from  the  fact 
of  Kale's  being  absent  throughout  the  night,  but  that  he  was  with  the  In- 
dians ;  but  the  graver  suspicions  wanted  confirmation.  Altogether  it  was 
as  embarrassing  as  it  was  painful,  and  he  hesitated,  not  knowing  how  to 
proceed, 

"Will  you  tell  me  the  object  of  your  fisit,  sir  ?"  again  asked  Kale  a  lit- 
tle sharply. 

"George  Arlin — "  Loper  again  hesitated. 

"Well,  what  of  him?"  asked  the  old  man,  his  face  darkening. 

"He — you— you  have  had  some  difficulty  with  him  !" 

"None  in  the  least,  sir !  I  only  told  him  what  he  might  expect  if  h« 
troubled  me." 

"Oh,  l-uher  !  do  not  talk  so  !"  sobbed  Mary. 

'And  that  was — " 

"It  does  not  concern  you,  sir  !"  haughtily  replied  Kale,  "and  if  this  is 
your  business  with  me — " 

"Then  I'll  come  to  the  point." 

"You'll  oblige  me  by  doing  so." 


BIG  THUNDER.  35 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  already  know,  sir.    Last  night,  Mr  Van  Alstine 
was  attacked  by  the  Indians,  and  his  cottage  burned  to  the  ground  !" 

A  slight  exclamation  escaped  the  old  man,  and  his  eyes  involuntarily 
turned  in  the  direction  of  the  yet  smoking  ruins. 
"You  seem  astonished  at  it !" 

"Yes,  yes  !  well,  what  more?"  eagerly  asked  Kale. 
"Himselt,  wife  and  the  young  man,  George  Alstine,  murdered  !" 
"Great  God  !"  ejaculated  Kale. 

Mary  raised  herself  from  her  father's  bosom.  The  vacant  stare  she  fix- 
ed upon  Loper's  face,— and  when  she  comprehended  the  full  extent  of  his 
words — the  wild  shriek  of  agony  that  burst  from  her  heart — swallowing 
up  father,  mother,  selt',  this  world  and  that,  that  is  to  come  in  those  three 
words,  "George  Arlin  murdered  !"  as  she  fell  into  her  father's  arms,  can 
better  be  imagined  than  described.  The  old  man  bent  over  his  child,  and 
with  earnest,  pitying  and  endearing  words,  tried  to  recall  her  to  conscious- 
ness ;  while  Loper  stood  by,  accusing  himself  of  foolish  rashness. 
"You  have  killed  her !"  cried  the  agonized  old  man. 
"Maiy,  Mary  !  'tis  your  father  that  calls  you — do  not  leave  him  yet,  or 
his  heart  will  break!  Open  your  eyes,  Mary,  and  let  your  old  father  have 
one  look  of  forgiveness,  one  word  that  will  curse  him  for  his  folly !  Perdi- 
tion sieze  the  boy  !  would  that  he  had  died  before  he  crossed  my  threshold  ! 
Hush!  she  opens  her  eyes!" 

She  did  open  her  eyes ;  and  they  were  tearless — not  a  diop  trembled  in 
their  lids — her  frame  was  weak  and  trembling,  and  she  leaned  upon  her 
father  for  support  as  if  life  and  hope  had  departed.  The  old  man  led  her 
into  the  house  and  placing  her  in  an  old  arm  chair,  knelt  by  her  side. 

'STake  it  not  so  to  heart,  Mary.  You  have  others  left  to  love  you  as  he 
never  loved — you  have  two  bosoms  where  there  is  no  deceit,  to  lean  upon ; 
two  hearts  that  live  but  for  your  happiness,  to  cheer  and  help  you  on." 
And  the  old  man  took  the  hand  of  his  wife,  who  had  risen  from  her  bed, 
and  now  knelt  by  her  side.  The  kind  entreaties  of  her  parents — their 
kneeling  posture,  had  power  upon  Mary— bringing  back  some  part  of  her 
parental  love — breaking  up  the  fountain  of  tears,  and  she  wept  upon  her 
mother's  neck.  While  this  afflicting  scene  was  enacting,  Loper  and  his 
men  were  busy  examining  every  part  of  the  house,  for  anything  that  might 
be  found  to  strengthen  their  suspicions.  First,  the  kitchen — then  the  spare 
room  used  only  on  particular  occasions — then  the  two  sleeping  rooms  of  the 
family,  all  were  examined — every  chest,  trunk  and  draw,  and  even  the 
brick  oven  escaped  not  their  scrutiny.  Finding  nothing  to  satisfy  their 
fears,  they  next  ascended  to  the  attic,  by  means  of  a  ladder  from  the  kitch- 
en. The  search  here  was  rather  more  difficult ;  the  garret  being  the  depos- 
itory of  all  the  rubbish  (so  to  speak)  of  the  family.  Here  was  lumber,  old 
boxes,  boots,  shoes,  coats  and  other  cast  off  woolen  garments,  heaped  to- 
gether in  every  quarter  of  the  place.  Everything  was  examined,  still 
nothing  discovered.  The  only  remaining  place  not  now  searched,  was  the 
3 


34  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

cellar,  and  thither  Loper  directed  his  attention.    Here  as  in  all  farm  house 
cellars,   were  boxes,  barrels,  tubs,  pails  and  jars,  setting  promiscuously 
about,  some  filled  with  family  stores,  others  entirely  empty ;    all  of  which 
were  looked  into  and  examined,  but  to  no  purpose.     Having  done  every- 
thing in  his  power,  Loper  gave  up  the  search  and  was  returning  fo  the 
kitchen.     As  he  came  to  the  stairs  he  slept  on  something  soft  that  attrac- 
ted his   attention.     Stooping  down,  he  pulled  from  beneath   the   bottom 
stair  which  was  raised  some  two  or  three  inches  from  the  ground,  a  long 
tow  irock  sometimes  worn  by  farmers  in  that  region,  the  folds  of  which 
protruded  from  beneath  the  step,  as  if  purposely  thrown  in  his  way.     On 
bringing  it  to  the  light,  there  were  several  large  spots  of  blood  discovered 
on  the  breast — the  right  sleeve  was  also  damp  and  clodded  with  blood,  and 
in  a  side  pocket  was  found  a  dagger,  unwiped  since  it  sped  on  its  deadly 
errand.     As  thoroughly  as  Loper   was   convinced  of  Kale's  guilt,  he   was 
startled  by  the  proofs  brought  to  light — astounded  by  the  undeniable  evi- 
dence in  his  possession  ;  and  though  he  ardently  desired  to  put  down  this 
spirit  of  rebellion,  and  bring  the  offenders  to  justice,  yet  he  grieved  that  the 
heaviest  guilt  should  be  found  at  the  door  of  this  distressed  family.     There 
was  but  one  course  for  him  to  pursue.     He  entered,  and  found  the  unfor- 
tunate family  more  calm ;    and  with  nerves  braced  to  do  his  duty,  lay  be- 
fore them  the  bloody  evidence  of  Kale's  guilt.     As  ignorant  as  they  were 
of  its  fearful  meaning,  it  was  another  shock  for  hearts  already  wrung  to 
snapping.     Though  they  bare  it  with  little  show  of  outward  grief,  except 
the  daughter ;  she  gave  way  to  tears  again,  over  a  ribbon  which  was  tied 
around  the  bloody  sleeve  of  the  frock. 

'Merciful  father  !"  she  cried,  "it  is  the  ribbon  that  I  gave  him  when  we 
parted,  and  which  he  swore  to  part  with  only  when  life  was  gone.  I  gave 
it  to  him  hopeful  of  a  happy  morrow;  little  dreaming  that  on  the  morrow 
it  would  come  back  to  me  dyed  with  his  heart's  blood.  Oh,  God  !  that  I 
should  live  to. see  it  thus!" 

"Be  calm,  my  child  !  It  is  ordained  in  wisdom  !"  said  her  mother,  "Pray 
God  that  the  offender  be  brought  to  justice  !" 

|"You  know  not  what  you  pray  for,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Loper,  "the 
suspected  murderer  is — " 

"Who?  gasped  the  unhappy  wife,  as  if  suspecting." 
"Forgive  me !  your  husband." 

Not  a  word  escaped  the  poor  wife's  lips — a  faintness  came  over  her,  and 
she  sank  into  a  chair. 

"No,  no,  no  !"  shrieked  Mary,  catching  Loper  by  the  arm,  and  looking 
him  imploringly  in  the  face,  "you  cannot  surely  mean  that !  You  dare  not 
look  me  in  the  face  and  say  my  father  is  a  murderer !  That  he  is  the  mur- 
derer of —  no,  no  !  it  is  too  horrible  to  believe  !  Look  at  him  !"  she  said, 
pointing  to  her  father,  who  stood  with  his  arms  folded — his  face  as  pale  as 
marble,  though  calmer  by  far  than  his  accusers — looking  on  as  he  was  the 
least  concerned  of  all.  "Look  at  him  !"  she  continued,  "does  he  look  like 


BIG  THUNDER.  35 

a  murderer  ?  Say,  is  there  blood  upon  his  hands,  or  coward  in  his  heart  1 
Tell  me  by  what  signs  ye  know  a  murderer !  speak,  speak ;  oh,  speak  !' 
and  overcome  by  her  emotions,  she  sank  upon  the  floor  beside  her  mother. 

"Upon  what  are  your  suspicions  grounded,  sir?"  asked  Kale,  with  a 
scarcely  perceptible  trembling  of  the  voice. 

"You  being  absent  throughout  the  night — the  bloody  frock  and  dagger, 
and  with  it  the  ribbon  given  the  unfortunate  young  man  by  your  daughter, 
at  their  last  meeting,  found  in  your  cellar — coupled  with  the  fact  that  you 
hated  the  young  man,  and  on  the  last  evening  threatened  him  with  your 
vengeance,"  answered  Loper, 

"It  wanted  but  this  to  make  my  cup  complete  !"  sobbed  the  unhappy- 
girl. 

"How  know  you  that  I  threatened  him  !" 

"I  cannot  answer  your  interrogations,  sir.  At  a  proper  tribunal,  all  will 
be  made  to  appear.  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  arrest  you,  sir." 

Mary  had  again  a  father  ;  and  springing  to  her  feet,  she  rushed  forward 
as  if  to  protect  him. 

'You  dare  not  do  it,  sir  !"  she  shrieked,"  "you  dare  not  injure  a  hair  of 
his  head  !  You  dare  not  so  offend  high  heaven  !  I  say  you  dare  not !  Would 
ye  take  from  the  wije  her  husband  ?  Would  ye  take  from  the  child  its  fath- 
er ?  Would  ye  take  from  a  poor  family  its  only  support  ?  Would  ye  heap 
misery  upon  them  through  life  ?  Would  ye,  would  ye  do  this  ?"  and  she 
sank  at  his  feet,  "Oh,  have  pity,  sir — some  pity — kneeling,  I  implore  thee, 
at  your  feet  I  beseech  thee,  spare  the  husband  and  father  !  Take  not  our 
life  away  !  have  pity,  and  heaven  will  reward  thee  !" 

"Mary !"  said  Kale,  raising  his  daughterf  rom  the  floor,  "be  calm !  give 
not  away  to  your  feelings !  I  confess  appearances  are  against  me,  but  I 
trust,  after  a  fair  trial,  I  shall  be  acquitted.  Let  the  scale  turn  as  it  will 
with  me,  Mary,  remember  you  have  a  mother  still,  that  needs  your  tender- 
est  care,"  and,Kale  led  his  daughter  to  where  sat  his  wife,  apparently  un- 
conscious of  what  was  doing  around,  her,  "She  needs  all  thy  love;  my 
child  ;"  he  continued,  the  tears  starting  to  his  eyes,  as  he  placed  the  cold 
hand  of  his  wife  within  his  child's  as  she  knelt  before  her,  "exert  thyself 
for  her  sake,  Mary ;  and  God  will  prosper  your  endeavors  !  Farewell ! 
Come,  sir  I  am  ready,"  and  he  rushed  out  of  his  hmise. 

On  coming  upon  the  road,  Loper  encountered  Gen.  Windsor  and  his  men 
on  their  return  from  the  woods.  They  had  scoured  the  forest  in  every  di- 
rection— found  the  last  night's  council-fire  of  the  Indians,  but  no  vestige  of 
the  lawless  band.  Loper  returned  with  his  prisoner  to  Troy,  not  much 
wiser  than  when  he  left,  but  sadder  in  heart. 


36  MARY  KALE  ;   OR, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"Oh  !  wherefore  strike  the  beautiful,  the  young 
So  innocent,  unharming?  Lift  the  knife, 
If  need  be,  'gainst  the  warrior;  but  forbear 
The  trembling  woman." 

[From  the  Yemasse. 

Mary  gave  not  away  to  useless  sorrow,  but  turned  all  her  attentions  to- 
wards making  her  mother  comfortable.  Losing  no  time  in  getting  her  to 
bed  again,  she  prepared  for  her  a  bowl  of  gruel,  of  which  she  partook  but 
little.  She  lay  entirely  passive :  taking  no  notice  of  things— heeding  not 
the  kind,  entreating  tones  of  her  daughter's  voice,  and  apparently  as  help- 
less as  an  infant.  As  the  day  wore  away,  her  malady  increased,  and  she 
lay,  her  eyes  glaring  wide  and  fixed  on  vacuity — her  features  stiff  and  ri- 
gid, and  the  only  things  that  told  of  life  was  a  slight  fluttering  of  her  heart, 
and  her  short  and  scarcely  perceptible  breathing.  Mary's  exertions  were 
doubled ;  and  with  the  assistance  of  a  kind  neighbor,  who  had  called  in, 
put  draughts  on  her  feet  —bathed  her  temples — rubbed  her  limbs  with  flan- 
nel— all  of  which  wrought  a  salutary  change,  and  she  fell  into  a  refreshing 
sleep.  Evening  came,  and  still  her  sleep  was  sweet  and  quieting.  Mrs. 
Jones,  the  kind  neighbor  referred  to,  together  with  Mrs.  Pratt,  who  had 
come  in  to  spend  the  night,  whispered  to  Mary,  that  as  her  mother  was 
quiet,  to  leave  her  to  their  care,  and  seek  some  rest  for  herself.  Thus  im- 
portuned, Mary  left  the  sick  room  for  the  kitchen,  and  having  barred  the 
outer  door,  and  closed  the  board  shutters  to  the  windows,  drew  the  old  arm 
chair  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  threw  herself  nearly  exhausted  into  it.  She 
had  been  up  through  all  the  previous  night,  and  the  day  that  followed,  had 
been  one  of  anxious  solicitude  for  her  mother's  safety ;  and,  now  that  that 
mother  was  quietly  sleeping,  and  she  had  no  incentive  for  further  exertions 
to  make  her  comfortable,  she  sank  under  the  accumulated  load  of  sorrow 
and  fatigue,  and  slept. 

"Tired  Nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy  sleep."  Thou  comest  to  the 
weary  heart,  like  a  pitying  anyel  sent  on  a  mission  of  mercy — thou  rock- 
estit  in  the  cradle  of  forgetfulness— thou  whisperest  in  its  ear  the  names  of 
those  \t  loves — thou  bringest  before  its  slumbering  vision,  the  bright  eyed 
daughter,  "Hope,"  laden  with  promises  of  future  bliss — thou  art  a  heaven 
to  the  weary  and  oppressed.  Sleep  bereaved  one,  sleep  !  and  for  a  while 
enjoy  the  society  of  him  who  is  gone,  brought  back  to  thee  in  dreams,  fora 
waking  too  soon  will  come,  that  will  try  thy  plighted  faith. 

The  door  leading  from  the  cellar  slowly  opened,  and  the  dark  figure  of  a 
man  crossed  the  room  and  stood  beside  the  sleeping  girl.  There  was  no 
light  in  the  room,  save  what  the  blazing  wood  emitted,  which  fell  upon  his 
dark  face  lit  up  with  fiendish  satisfaction,  as  he  gazed  upon  the  angel-like 
countenance,  and  the  sweet  smile  playing  around  the  mouth  of  the  dream- 
ng  giil. 


BIG  THUNDER.  37 

"No  wonder  that  Adam  fell,  if  his  Eve  was  half  as  fair  as  thee; '  he 
muttered,  "No  wonder  that  he  bartered  the  heaven  perspective,  for  present 
bliss ;  the  heaven  of  her  bright  smiles,  if  they  possessed  half  the  witchery 
playing  around  thy  sweet  lips.  Sweet  angel!  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart 
now  to  pity  thee  !  a  thing  so  pure  —so  slight — so  helpless — so  bereaved  ; 
and  could  I  bring  a  smile  like  that  to  thy  awaking  dreams,  I  would  give 
up  half  my  life  ;  to  spend  the  residue  in  thy  fair  company  ;  and  think  it 
cheaply  won.  "Ha!  ha!"  he  laughed,  as  he  recalled  some  past  event. 
Thou  art  silent,  now,  though  I  gaze  with  wanton  pleasure  on  thy  beauty — 
that  little  mouth  curls  not  now  in  scorn,  at  the  weak  attempt  to  picture  the 
wild  passion  that  burns  into  my  very  soul,  and  consumes  my  very  being  ! 
Soft !  it  grieves  me  to  break  thy  slumbers,  but  it  shall  be  with  a  kiss ;  no 
lover  could  do  more.  Lips  take  thy  first" — and  he  pressed  a  kissed  upon 
her  lips. 

"Heavens!  who  are  you-?  Where  come  from  !"  excl  aimed  Mary,  spring 
ing  from  her  seat,  and  confronting  the  intruder. 

"Sh — h — h  !  a  ht.le  lower  if  you  please,  lady.'1 

"How  come  you  here,  sir;  and  why?"  she  again  demanded. 

"How?  stony  limits  cannot  hold  love  out,"  neither  can  wood  walls  !  it 
is  a  secret,  lady.  Why  I  am  here,  it  imports  thee  to  know." 

"Love  !  did  you  say  love  ?  Come  not  here  with  that  word  upon  your  lips, 
which  would  profane  the  very  name  of  love;  leave  it  far  behind,  for  it 
sounds  like  mockery !  Hate  would  become  them  better  !" 

"You  are  severe  upon  me,  lady  !" 

"No  !  if  you  loved  me,  you  would  not  seek  to  make  me  miserable  !" 

"I  ?" 

"Yes,  you  Jerry  Huss  !  You  would  not  force  yourself  into  my  presence — 
you  would  not  lie  in  wait  for  me  at  every  turn,  and  thief-like  steal  what  else 
would  be  denied  you." 

"Your  words  grate  harshly,  fair  one  ;  but  they  are  pardoned.  My  pur- 
pose was  a  good  one  in  coming  to  you  Mary ;  and  finding  you  asleep  was 
unexpected  ;  but  being  so,  it  was  a  temptation  set  before  me  too  great  to 
be  withstood.  I  kissed  you.  Do  not  curl  your  lip  in  scorn,  for  it  but  heigh- 
tens and  adds  another  charm  to  beauty  already  transcendant ;  but  hear  me. 
If  you  ever  loved  hear  me.  If  you  ever  felt  the  passion  that  fires  the  ,soul, 
and  maddens  the  brain,  you  would  pity  and  not  deride.  If  you  ever  felt 
love  warmly  nestling  within  your  bosom  ;  it  would  rob  contempt  of  its 
shaft,  disarm  hatred  of  its  sting,  and  bid  the  wretched  live  and  hope  on." 

"I  can  give  you  no  ground  for  hope,  Mr.  Huss  !"  said  Mary,  softened  by 
his  show  of  griet,  "I  love  another." 

"But  that  other  is  no  more  !" 

"You  do  well  to  remind  me  of  it,  for  there  is  fear  this  heart  will  forget 
him,"  and  her  tears  started  atresh. 

"Yes  he  has  gone,  and  therefore  am  I  doubly  bound  to  prove  true  to  him. 
He  had  my  promise  that  I  would  marry  no  one  but  him." 

"It  was  miserly  in  him  to  exact  such  a  promise — selfish  in  the  extreme !' 


38  MARY   KALE;  OR, 

"He  did  not  exact  it ;  I  gave  it  to  him  voluntarily,  and  no  power  on 
earth  shall  make  me  break  it." 

"Mary—" 

"Not  a  word  more,  sir ;  and  if  you  would  not  have  me  hate  you  entire- 
ly, leave  me !" 

"One  moment,  and  I  will !  I  came  here  to  convince  you  that  I  love  you  ; 
and  to  prove  it  to  you  I  will  tell  you  what  I  am  disposed  to  do.  Your 
father—" 

"Father,  say  ye  !  what  of  him  ?  Have  you  seen  him  since  he  leit  us  ?" 

"No  ;  but  I  know  that  he  is  in  prison,  and  can  save  him." 

"And  will  ?"  she  almost  shrieked. 

"And  will." 

"Bless  ye,  bless  ye,  for  your  kind  assurance ;  oh,  how  I  have  wronged 
you !"  she  exclaimed,  bathing  his  hand  with  her  tears.  "Forgive  me  for 
speaking  so  harshly  to  you — I  did  not  know  you  then — I  did  not  know  you 
were  so  good— forgive  me  !" 

"I  am  afraid  you  do  not  know  me  now,"  thought  Huss. 

"And  I  shall  have  back  my  father  !  my  kind,  good  old  father,  who  loves 
me  so  well;  and  we  shall  be  happy —  mother,  dear  mother,  will  be  happy  ; 
oh,  how  happy  !  and  you  will  do  all  this — you  will  give  me  back  my  fath- 
er— you  that  I  have  so  vilely  wronged." 

"Yes,  Mary,  I  will  give  you  back  your  father — " 

"God  reward  you  !"  she  said,  smiling  through  her  tears. 

"On  one  condition !" 

"Condition!  Condition  say  you!  Is  there  a  condition  then?  Well,  let 
me  hear  it !" 

"That  you  give  me  your  hand.''' 

Mary  looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  as  if  doubting  her  own  senses.  So 
long,  earnest  and  searching  was  her  gaze  that  Huss  quailed  under  it. 

"I  was  looking  to  see  if  you  were  man  or  devil !"  she  said,  "lor  nothing 
short  of  the  evil  one  himself  could  invent  a  scheme  so  horrid.  You  heard 
me  affirm  but  now  that  I  would  not  marry  you,  and  acquiesced  ;  and  saint 
like  raised  the  hope  of  my  father's  liberty;  aye,  and  promised  it,  too;  and 
when  I  believed  you,  and  almost  saw  my  father  stand  before 'me,  and 
smiling  bade  God  bless  you  !  You  raised  a  condition;  my  hand,  broken 
vows  and  plighted  faith,  the  barter.  Oh,  God  !  Where  sleep  thy  bolts  of 
retribution  that  he  is  not  punished  for  this  mockery!"  and  she  bowed  her 
head  upon  her  bosom,  and  wept. 

"You  will  think  better  of  this,  Mary !" 

"No,  no  !  you  cannot  mean  so  !  It  is  too  horrid !  'twas  only  said  to  try 
me  !  oh,  sir  !"  she  continued,  kneeling  at  his  feet,  "revoke  what  you  have 
said — remove  the  horrid  condition — stick  not  for  the  base  barter — do  the 
good  action  for  the  sake  of  good  doing — be  generous,  save  the  father  and 
spare  the  child !" 

'I  have  not  the  supreme  felicity  to  be  generous,  and  therefore  cannot 


BIG  THUNDER.  39 

grant  it,"  said  Huss,  a  malignant  smile  playing  over  his  face,  at  the  thought 
th/t  he  should  conquer. 

"If  you  will  not  for  my  sake,  for  your  own  grant  my  prayer.  Think 
what  must  be  your  feelings  should  you  suffer  three  human  beings  to  die, 
for  want  of  succor  you  can  give.  Think  ye,  your  victims  will  not  appear 
to  you  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night,  when  you  approach,  and  almost  see 
eye  to  eye  with  your  God,  and  shriek  in  your  terrified  ears  the  maledictions 
that  must  damn  you  here  and  hereafter  ?  Think  ye,  you  will  escape  the 
misery  of  a  guilty  conscience,  the  worm  that  never  dies?  Undeceive  your- 
self! Forego  this  horrid  condition,  for  your  own  sake  and  mine,  and  save 
my  father !" 

"Why  this  is  well ;"  said  Huss  with  savage  joy,  "but  now  I  prayed  to 
thee,  and  for  what ?     Now  the  table  has  turned;  pray  on  fair  saint,  and 
know  how  good  it  is  to  plead  in  vain  !" 
"Monster !"  exclaimed  Mary,  rising  to  her  feet. 

"Once  for  all ;"  said  Huss,  his  face  livid  with  passion,  "will  you  wed  me?" 
"I  cannot,  never,  never!" 
"Then  he  dies  !"  - 

"Ah  !  God ! — spare — my — fa — "  v 

There  was  a  heavy  fall  upon  the  floor.  Mrs.  Jones  and  Mrs.  Pratt  rush- 
ed out  from  the  sick  room,  and  found  Mary  in  a  swoon. 

"La,  me,  what  ails  the  gal  ?  she's  got  a  fit !  where's  the  salts,  Mrs. 
Jones  ?— rub  her  limbs  warm— the  poor  dear  thing,  her  troubles  is  too 
much  for  her ! — Ah,  them  salts  is  doing  her  good — she  opens  her  eyes — la, 
dear,  how  comes  all  this  about?" 

Mary  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  looked  wildly  around  her,  "He's  gone  !"  she 
said. 

"Who's  gone,  dear  ?" 

"He — no  matter;  I  fainted,  I  believe;"  she  continued,  placing  her  hand 
upon  her  forehead  and  heart,  "I  am  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble. 
How  is  my  mother  now  ?" 

"She  still  slept  when  we  left  her  room,  marm ;"  said  Mrs.  Jones. 
"I  am  thankful  to  hear  it ;  I  trust  she  will  be  better  when  she  awakes," 
said  Mary,  entering  the  sick  room.     She  found  her  mother  awake.     "How 
do  you  feel  now,  dear  mother  ?"  she  asked,  taking  her  hand. 
"Better,  much  better,  Mary  !" 
"Heaven  be  praised  !"  said  the  grateful  girl. 
"I  have  had  a  dream,  my  child!" 
"A  dream,  dearest  mother  !" 

"He  is  innocent,  Mary  ;  he  may  suffer,  but  he  is  innocent !  I  learned  it 
in  my  dream— I  saw  an  angel  writing  in  a  book,  and  did  ask— it  shook  its 
head,  and  smiling  said  ;  "All  will  be  revealed  in  heaven  !"  I  thanked  the 
angel,  for  I  understood  the  smile.  It  was  not  a  sad  smile  of  pity,  but  a 
happy  smile  that  toldjne  my  husband  was  innocent.  I  shall  die  much 
now ;— do  not  weep,  my  child— I  know  the  world  has  had  few 


40  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

flowers  for  thee — I  know  your  path  through  time  must  be  dark — but  you 
are  good,  Mary — the  Lord  loveth  whom  he  chasteneth — let  that  console 
thee  when  I  am  gone." 

"Dear,  dear  mother !"  sohbed  Mary,  "do  not  talk  thus  sadly ;— you  will 
live  for  many  years  to  come,  a  guide  and  blessing  to  your  child !" 

"No  Mary,  no  !  I  feel  death's  approach,  and  should  rejoice  at  it,  were  it 
not  for  thee.  I  grieve  to  leave  thee  to  struggle  through  the  world  alone  ; 
was  he  here  to  share  with  thee— well,  well;  forgive  me  !  Do  not  weep— do 
not  despajr — the  good  always  find  some  true  friends — *and  remember  that 
in  your  journey  through  life,  you  are  attended  by  two  angels,  Reward  and 
Punishment— sitting  upon  your  right  shoulder,  and  upon  your  left.  If  you 
do  a  good  action,  the  angel  on  your  right  shoulder,  writes  it  down,  and  seals 
it  up  ;  for  what  is  well  done  is  done  forever.  You  enter  at  once  into  your 
reward,  Mary !  If  you  do  a  bad  action,  my  child,  the  angel  on  your  left 
shoulder  writes  it  down,  but  does  not  seal  it  up — you  have  a  chance  for  re- 
pentance, still ;  atone  for  your  fault,  and  in  the  lone  silence  of  your  closet, 
pour  out  your  soul  in  secret — truely  repent  and  be  forgiven.  If  you  fail  to 
do  this — at  midnight,  when  the  world's  account  of  rewards  and  punishments 
are  made  up,  your  account  is  closed,  and  the  rewarding  angel  weeps. — 
There  is  then  punishment  certain.  Remember  this,  my  child,  and  live  to  meet 
the  smiles  of  a  reproving  conscience.  I — I  am  going,  Mary — you  are  fad- 
ing from  my  sight — I  feel  your  hand — it  trembles — fear  not — bless  ye — 
bless " 

Her  last  breath  was  with  her  child. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"It  is  decreed,  and  we  must  yield  to  fate, 
Whose  angry  justice,  though  it  threatens  ruin, 
Contempt  and  poverty,  is  all  but  trial 
Of  a  weak  woman's  constancy  in  suffering. 

FORD. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  our  story  to  follow  Mary  through  the  trying  scene 
that  followed  ;  her  mother's  funeral — nor  to  picture  her  untiring  devotion 
to  her  father  through  this  painful  trial — suffice  it  to  say  she  bore  all  unmur- 
muring. The  evidence  brought  against  Kale,  was  nothing  positive  ;  but 
circumstances  were  so  strong  that  it  was  impossible  to  clear  him.  Kale's 
known  sympathy  for  the  "anti-renters,"  had  its  own  weight  with  the  juror, 
who  thought  it  necessary  to  make  a  public  example,  in  order  to  break  up 
their  lawless  doings.  His  ever  manifest  hate  towards  the  young  man  was 
highly  pictured — his  threatenings  on  the  evening  of  the  murder,  were  sworn 

to  by  Huss  in  extravagant  language — and  even  Michael's  testimony  went 

— — »  — 

*This  idea  is  borrowed. 


BIG  THUNDER.  41 

to  show  that  he  felt  revengeful  towards  his  master.  Coupled  to  this  were 
the  facts  of  Kale's  being  from  home  through  the  night — the  finding  of  the 
bloody  frock  and  dagger  the  next  morning  in  the  cellar— the  ribbon  tied 
around  the  sleeve  of  the  frock,  recognized  by  Mary  as  given  to  her  lover 
the  previous  evening;  were  evidences  of  his  guilt  too  strong  for  refutation. 
Kale  was  ofiered  by  the  Court  the  privilege  of  turning  as  evidence  for  the 
state  ; — had  the  offer  of  free  pardon,  if  he  would  inform  against  his  accom- 
plices, and  give  up  the  body  of  the  murdered  young  man  to  his  distressed 
family.  Kale  persisted  in  his  innocence,  and  therefore  had  no  accomplices  ; 
he  knew  nothing  of  the  young  man's  murder,  and  therefore  could  not  give 
up  his  body.  The  case  was  given  to  the  juror,  and  they  rendered  their 
verdict  upon  the  broad  argument  laid  down  in  holy  writ,  that  if  a  man  be 
guilty  in  the  least  degree,  he  is  guilty  ot  the  whole.  They  looked  upon 
him  not  only  as  the  murderer  of  "George  Arlin,  but  of  Von  Alstine  and  his 
wife.  They  found  him  guilty. 

In  the  damp,  cold  cell,  sat  the  father  and  child.  Kale  upon  a  straw  mat- 
rass, lying  upon  a  rough  stone  slab  firm  in  the  side  of  the  cell,  and  his 
daughter  seated  on  the  only  stool  the  place  afforded.  She  held  her  father's 
hand ;  and  the  faint  light  coming  through  a  grated  window,  revealed  teras 
upon  the  cheeks  of  both.  It  was  the  morning  of  execution. 

"I  thank  you,  father,  for  the  assurance ;"  sa:d  Mary,  following  up  the 
onversation  that  had  proved  too  painful  for  them  both,  "how  horrid  to  be 
branded  as  a  felon ;  to  stand  upon  the  scaffold  in  presence  of  thousands 
who  call  thee  murderer ;  to  be  lauded  by  the  evil  ones,  and  hailed  as  broth- 
er; to  suffer  death,  and  know  thyself  innocent.  Could  you  not  prove  where 
you  were  on  that  horrid  night?" 

"How  could  I  ?  The  letter  that  informed  me  of  your  meeting  with  the 
young  man,  also  informed  me  if  I  would  come  alone  to  a  certain  rock  (de- 
scribed) upon  the  banks  of  the  river,  I  should  learn  more  of  the  young  man's 
intentions  towards  you.  I  know  not  the  hand-writing,  but  finding  the  first 
statement  in  the  note  true,  I  did  not  suspect  the  other.  I  left  you,  as  you 
remember  at  the  door,  and  sought  the  place  assigned.  I  found  two  men 
there  before  me,  strangers ;  and  not  dreaming  of  treachery,  I  approached 
them ;  when  I  was  seized,  thrown  upon  the  ground,  my  feet  tied  together, 
my  hands  behind  my  back,  and  a  bandage  over  my  eyes.  Contented  with 
what  they  had  accomplished,  my  friends  left  me.  Oh,  {he  agony  of  that 
long  night !  I  suffered  less  for  myself,  than  for  you,  my  child,  and  your 
mother.  I  knew  what  must  be  your  feelings  ;  I  knew  you  would  watch 
for  my  return  the  whole  night,  and  the  knowledge  added  fury  to  my 
strength ;  I  wrenched  upon  my  cords  till  they  were  into  my  very  flesh, 
and  the  blood  started  from  my  wrists;  all  in  vain.  Thus  passed  away  the 
night,  and  morning  came  at  last,  and  with  it  my  tormenters.  They  un- 
bound my  hands  and  then  left  me.  Removing  the  bandage  from  my  eyes 
as  soon  as  possible,  I  saw  them  making  from  me,  toward  the  woods ;  but 
I  could  not  follow  them,  my  feet  were  tied ;  1  had  no  knife  to  cut  the  cord, 


42  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

and  the  knot  was  hard  and  fast  from  the  pressure  I  had  given  it  in  my  at- 
tempts to  free  myself.  At  length  it  gave  way,  and  I  was  a  free  man;  but 
they  had  gained  Rentwood,  and  eluded  pursuit.  Vainly  searching  for 
them  a  whole  hour,  I  returned  home;  you  know  the  rest." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  this  in  court,  father  ?" 

"They  would  not  have  believed  it,  child ;  I  could  prove  nothing ;  and 
they  would  have  called  it  a  story  of  my  invention,  and  thus  I  should  be 
called  a  liar  as  well  as  murderer." 

"Can  you  not  guess,  who  is  at  the  bottcm  of  all  this  ?" 

"I  think  I  can,  my  child;  Oh  !  it  is  God's  judgment  upon  me,  to  reward 
me  for  my  treachery  towards  thee." 

"Do  not  say  so,  father  ;  you  meant  it  all  for  good." 

"I  was  blinded,  Mary,  to  your  happiness,  and  my  good.  I  hated  the 
young  man  because  he  was  rich,  and  because  I  thought  I  could  detect  on 
his  proud  face,  and  in  his  prouder  tone,  a  feeling  of  superiority  over  the 
poor  man's  daughter,  whom  he  would  seduce.  I  would  not  listen  to  rea- 
son that  plead  for  you  ;  I  would  not  hear  a  word;  but  sacrificed  ray  child 
to  punish  him.  I  robbed  her  of  happiness;  I  broke  her  heart  and  doomed 
her  to  a  long,  long  life  of  misery  !  Wretch  that  I  was  !  justly  am  I  rewar- 
ded !" 

"Father!  father!  do  not  talk  so!  if  you  love  me,  not  a  word  more!" 
sobbed  the  almost  distracted  girl. 

"This  is  not  all;  besides  sacrificing  my  child,  I  have  killed  my  wife." 

"No,  no,  no;  not  that!  She  believed  you  innocent,  father;  and  dying 
bade  God  bless  thee !" 

"  'Tis  a  pleasure  to  hear  you  say  so,  my  child;  and  do  you  forgive  me 
too  ?  Can  you  forgive  all  that  I  have  caused  you  to  suffer,  and  all  that  you 
may  suffer  for  years  to  come  ?" 

''If  I  had  any  thins  lojorgive,  I  would  saost  freely!  I  have  rather  to 
thank  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me ;  for  your  kind  forbearance  with 
my  many  faults ;  for  your  generous  supply  of  my  many  wants;  for  all 
your  care  ;  for  all — Oh,  God  !  Your  death-bell,  father  !  would  that  it  knolled 
for  me !" 

"You  are  too  young  to  wish  to  die,  my  child ;"  said  Kale,  kissing  the 
pale  forehead  of  his  daughter. 

"They  are  all  gone,  when  you  have  left  me,  that  I  love  on  earth ;  who 
should  I  wish  to  live  ?" 

"To  see  justice  done  your  father's  memory ;  for  be  sure  this  hellish  plot 
will  be  unravelled,  and  men  confess  me  innocent.  Then  shall  my  death 
be  raised  another  argument  with  the  many,  for  the  abolition  of  "Capital 
Punishment !"  Live  my  child,  and  the  while  remember  that  there  are  spir- 
its in  the  other  world,  looking  down  upon  tieir  lone  child  in  this,  with  the 
care  of  gurdian  angels;  and  let  the  thought  purify  thy  life,  and  strengthen 
thy  resolves  !  The  jailer  comes !  bear  up,  my  child ;  'twill  soon  be  over. 

"Your  time  has  come,"  he  said. 


BIG  THUNDER.  43 

"I  am  prepared ;  lead  on !  Lean  on  my  arm,  Mary ;"  he  whispered  to 
his  child,  "be  calm,  and  let  the  gapeing  multitude  see,  that  we  can  suffer 
without  a  murmur." 

At  the  door  they  were  received  by  the  Sheriff  and  officers  in  attendance, 
and  wiih  solemn  tread  marched  towards  the  scaffold.  It  was  erected  in 
the  yard,  a  short  distance  from  the  jail  door.  A  line  of  soldiers  were  drawn 
up  on  either  side  of  the  passage  leading  to  the  gallow.s,  to  guard  the  priso- 
ner, as  it  was  rumored  that  Big  Thunder  and  his  band,  intended  to  rescue 
him.  Beyond  was  the  multitude,  sweeping  from  the  very  foot  of  the  gal- 
lows out  into  the  distance,  filling  the  whole  yard  and  streets  beyond;  a 
vast  multitude — thousands  and  thousands,  collected,  to  witness  the  Law's 
revenge. 

With  becoming  fortitude,  Mary  supported  herself  till  she  came  to  the  ou- 
ter door  and  looked  out  upon  that  vast  assembly.  One  face  she  singled 
out  among  all  the  rest ;  one  eye  met  hers,  which  exultingly  seemed  to  say 
"now  havs  I  conquered  !  nowjare  you  mine!"  Jerry  Hussjjstood  directly  be- 
neath the  scaffoW.  With  swimming  eyes  she  turne^  away,  "Oh,  God ! 
support  me  !  I  can  go  no  farther,"  she  sobbed,  and  would  have  sunk  to  the 
floor  had  not  her  father  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  folded  her  to  his  breast. 
"Father  in  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  ''temper  the  mind  to  the 
shorn  lamb  !  Be  thou  her  support  thro5* this  trying  scen^  ;  and  when  I  am 
gone,  shelter  her  Lord,  beneath  thy  wing."  And  he  pressed  her  to  his  bo- 
som as  he  would  enshrine  her  within  his  heart.  "God  I  thank  the  for 
this  !  She  will  not  see  her  father  die  !" 

Mary  had  fallen  into  one  of  those  moods  noticed  before,  when  wrought 
up  to  such  a  pitch  by  suffering,  that  it  held  supreme  control  over  all  her 
other  faculties,  and  suffering,  still  she  knew  it  not. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  her  ?"  cried  the  agonized  old  man,  "what  will 
become  of  her  when  I  am  gone  ?  Who  will  give  shelter  to  a  murderer's 
child  ?" 

"I  will  provide  for  her!"  said  an  old  gentleman,  who  had  witnessed  the 
scene;  almost  choking  with  emotion. 

Kale  regarded  the  strangers  benevolent  countenance  for  a  ft'V  moments 
in  silence,  trying  to  guess  where  he  had  seen  it  before.  "At  the  trial!"  he 
said,  as  if  thinking  aloud. 

"Yes,  at  the  trial !"  said  the  stranger  as  divining  his  thoughts,  '^will  youi 
give  your  daughter  to  me  ?" 
"Are  you  a  father  ?" 

"I  was  once  !"  answered  the  stranger,  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion. 
"You  want  a  child,  and  my  child  a  father !  Take  her,  and  God  bless  ye  ! 
Farewell,  Mary  !"  and  giving  her  one  lingering,  fervent  kiss  upon  her  brow 
as  if  his  whole  soul  was  poured  out  with  it,  he  placed  her  in  the  arms  of 
the  stranger.  "No  shaft  can  reach  me  now  !"  he  said,  and  with  a  firm 
step  he  walked  between  the  files  of  soldiers,  up  the  steps,  and  stood  upon 
the  scafiold,  eye  to  eye  with  the  multitude.  As  he  gazed  down  upon  the 


44  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

vast  sea  of  human  taces  upturned  towards' him,  his  soul  almost  sickened 
within  him.  "What  come  they  to  see?"  he  asked  himself,  "the  old  and 
the  young  are  here ;  young  men  and  maidens,  the  good  man,  and  the  Vil- 
lain, all  are  here ;  all  mingling  together  for  one  object,  for  one  end ;  What? 
To  witness  a  lawful  murder.  Well,  look  on ;  look  your  fill ;  aye,  glut 
your  eyes  with  my  dying  struggles ;  and  then  go  home,  and  before  you  re- 
tire to  rest,  thank  God  you  are  no  murderer  !" 

"Shall  I  pray  with  you,  my  son  ?"  said  the  clergyman  who  had  followed 
Kale  upon  the  scaffold. 

"I  have  no  fear  for  the  future,  sir,  and  as  the  part  I  play  in  this  affair  is 
more  painful  to  me  that  it  would  seem  to  be,  to  the  thousands  that  have 
come  here  to  witness,  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  decline  your  kind  offer." 
I  would  end  this  farce  as  soon  as  possible.     I  am  ready  !" 

The  old  man  knelt  down,  and  as  the  Hangman  stepped  forward  to  draw 
the  white  cap  over  his  face,  to  shut  out  the  light  of  day  forever,  the  still- 
ness that  reigned  over  that  vast  multitude  was  almost  startling.  Through 
its  length  and  breadth,  all  was  hushed,  like  the  awful  pause  in  nature,  e'er 
the  loud' thunder  rolls.  Hark  !  a  sound  breaks  on  the  ear  from  the  distant 
street ;  nearer  and  more  near  it  comes,  and  sweeping  over  that  startled 
crowd  to  the  kneeling  man  a  herald  of  mercy !  "Stay  the  execution  !  stay 
the  execution !" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"What  may  this  mean, 

That  thou,  dead  corse,  again,  in  complete  steel, 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 
Making  night  hideous;  and  we  fools  of  nature, 
So  horridly  to  shake  our  disposition, 
With  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  souls? 
Say,  why  is  this  ?  wherefore  ?  what  should  we  do  ?" 

[Shakespeare. 

Our  readers  will  excuse  us  if  we  go  back  some  fourteen  hours  in  time, 
and  take  them  into  the  midst  of  the  large  field  stretching  from  John  Kale's 
humble  ^md  now  deserted)  house  to  the  Rentwood  forest,  and  from  the 
public  highway  to  the  Hudson,  where  was  seated  two  figures.  One  was 
seated  upon  a  pile  of  loose  stones  thrown  together,  the  other  crouched  on 
the  ground  at  his  side.  The  moon  had  entered  a  cloud,  so  it  was  impos- 
sible to  discover  if  they  were  white  or  black;  but  if  we  listen  we  shall 
know  them. 

"Och !  its  no  use  Misthur  Tige ;  we  might  sarch  from  noo  till  {Christ- 
mas, an'  be  noon  the  wiser,  a'tall  a'tall,"  said  he,  sitting  upon  the  pile  ot 
stones.  "Sure  he  has  taken  his  precious  boody  along  wid  him ;  and  here 
we  have  bin  kilt  a  hoondheed  times,  an'  ivery  time  warser  thin  the  tother, 


BIG  THUNDER.  45 

for  kis  blissid  sake.     Hive'nt  I  warked  througli  all  the  woods  and  bogs 
hereabouts,  all  bekase  the  ould  jintleman  offered  a  thousand  dollars  lor  his 
boody,  bating  the  love  I  bear  himslt?  Och,  I'm  not  the  boy   to   complain, 
misthurTige;   but  jisttellme  the  use  ov  this,  onyhow?    Oh-ho-ho-ho  ! 
its  nation  could ;"  he  continued,  drawing  an  old  blanket  closer  around  him, 
and  taking  from  the  skirt-pocket  of  his  coat  a  bottle  which  he  applied  to 
his  mouth,  and  relinquished  with  a  hearty  smack  of  the  lips.     "Upon  my 
sowl  its  the  raal  crathur  ;  May  the  blissid  virgin  keep  a  jinerous  supply  of 
the  like.    list  taste  it,  misther  Tige !  An'  is  it  you  that  turns  away,  afthur 
the  example  I've  sit  these  four  ,ears?   Well,  by  the  powers  ye  don't  knew 
what  is  good,  an'  its  Michael  Flynn  that  tills  ye  so,  ye  divil;  mind  that. 
Och,  its  himself  that  will  dhrink  for  us  both,  and  not  wink.     "Here's  suc- 
cess to  all  yer  undertakings,  misthur  Tige ;  an'  may  ye  niver  want  for  a 
frind  to  take  all  unplisint  jobs  like  the  prisint,  off  yer  hands."     Here  he 
took  another  hearty  pull  at  the  bottle.     "Ahem  !  it  jist  touches  the  right 
spot,"  he  said,   replacing  the  bottle  in  his  coat  pocket.     "Come  misthur 
Tige,  we  might  jist  as  will  give  it  up,  and  jog  aloong;  for  I  feels  nation 
tired  and  hungry,  like  ;  and  I  shant  be  afthar  ateing  the  brid  I  have  with 
me  till  we  gets  into  a  warmer  coonthry."     Saying  which,  pulling  the  blan- 
ket still  closer  around  him,  to  protect  his  body  as  much  as  possible  from 
the  keen  night  wind,  he  resumed  his  walk.     His  course  lay  towards  the 
river,  in  order  to  gain  the  more  even  ground,  as  he  proposed    to  pass  by 
the  Kale  Cottage  on  his  route.     "Come  misthur  Tige,  jist  go  ahid  wid  ye, 
an'  if  ye  fall  intoo  ony  bog*hools,  spake  an'  tell  us  ov  it,  an'  its  Michael 
Flynn  that  will  pull  ye  oot.     Och  !  its  as  dark  as  pargathory,  ivery  bit." 
In  ihis  way  making  himself  as  agreeable  as  possible,  he  pursued  his  way 
as  well  as  the  ground  and  darkness  would  permit.     Sometimes  he  would 
run  against  a  stray  stone,  at  others  step  into  a  deep  hole,  which  wonld  on- 
ly cause  him  to  exclaim,  "by  the  powers!  Och,  its  the  divil's   own  hool !' 
And  he  would  pursue  his  way  as  fast  as  before,  for  he  had  a  notion  to  be  in 
the  City  on  the  next  morning  to  witness  the  execution  of  his  master's  mur- 
derer.    He  had  nearly  reached  the  path  which  he  knew  lay  along  the  riv- 
er, when  he  was  startled  by  a  bright  light  upon  the  ground  directly  before 
him.     "The  good  Lord  defind  us  !  By  St.  Dennis,  St.  Patrick,  an'  all  the 
rist  of  the  dead  an'  gone  Saints,  I  charge  you  to  leave  me  !  Away  with  ye, 
an'  don't  be  afthur  leading  off  a  good  thrue  Christian  to  dim  his  sowl !  I 
knows  what  ye  be  Jack-o-lanthurn,  an'  I'm  not  to  be  taken  in  by  ye  !  Och 
don't  be  afthur  spaking  to  him  in  that  unchristian  manner,  misthur  Tige," 
he  said  to  his  dog,  who  sprang  towards  the  light  with  a  sharp  bark.     "It'le 
not  understand  ye,  a'tall-a'tall !  May-be  it  will  tempt  ye  into  some  ould 
church-yard,  ye  divil,  so  jist  be  civil  to  it.     Though  faith  I  would'nt  mind 
it  much,  if  it  would  only  lead  me  to  my  masthur."    As  Michael  began  to 
oe  a  little  accustomed  to  the  glaring  object  before  him,  it  lost  its  potency; 
and,  what  at  first  appeared  to  his  startled  senses,  a  very  ignis  fatuus,  the 
horror  of  his  countrymen,  now  appeared  but  a  fainf  light  scarcely  percep- 


46  MARY  KALE  ;  OR, 

tible,  enlivened  by  innumerable  fiery  sparks  shooting  up  into  the  darkness. 
"By  the  powers  !"  he  exclaimed,  "an1  its  only  a  fire,  afthur  all ;  it  glared 
like  a  sarpint  at  fivst,  though.  Come  along  misthur  Tige,  we'll  have  a  bit 
of  a  warmin',  ony  how."  Thus  saying  he  walked  up  to  the  light,  when  his 
astonishment  broke  forth  again.  "Och !  an'  the  divil  of  a  fire  is  it  afthur 
all ;  but  a  living  volcanoo,  as  I  live !  Whoiver  heard  of  the  like  in  York  ? 
Here's  a  discivery  for  ye,  Misthur  Tige ;  red  hot  fire  comin'  ootofthe 
grooned.  By  the  powers,  there's  somebody  here !  hold  on  a  bit  till  I  see  !" 
Voices  were  heard  coming  in  the  direction  of  the  river ;  and,  Mishael  giv- 
ing a  low  word  to  his  dog,  which  it  understood  for  silence,  crept  to  the  verge 
of  the  bank  where  it  made  a  bold  leap  of  some  thirty  feet  to  the  water  be- 
low. Upon  a  shelf  of  projecting  rock  nearly  at  the  water's  level,  stood  two 
men  whose  voices  had  attracted  Michael's  attention.  One  of  them  held  a 
lighted  torch,  which  sent  its  lurid  glare  far  out  on  the  river. 

"Come  along  cap'en,"  said  he  with  the  torch,  "and  let  the  critter  alone. 
It's  getting  to  be  d — m  cold  here." 

"Yes,  and  its  time  we  were  off,  if  we  think  to  see  the  old  fellow  swing 
to-morrow,"  said  his  companion. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha  '."laughed  the  man  addressed  as  'captain,'  coming  out  from 
(what  appeared)  the  solid  rock,  "he's  got  a  little  fire  in  him  yet ;  though  I 
reckon  when  we  visit  him  again,  it  will  burn  rather  low." 

The  trio  entered  a  boat  standing  alongside,  turned  it  down  the  river  ; 
and  was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  distance. 

"I  should  jist  like  to  know  a  wee  bit,  where  thim  divils  come  from!" 
said  Michael,  peering  down  into  the  darkness,  "an'  what  they  was  doin' 
there,  ony  how."  As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  he 
thought  he  could  discern  the  rock,  on  which  the  three  stood  that  had  just 
left  him.  "Can  ye  tell  a  feller  hoo  to  git  doon  there  misthur  Tige  ?  Way 
doon  there  on  that  rock,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  desired  spot.  Tige  un- 
derstanding, left  his  master  and  took  his  way  down  the  bank  of  the  river, 
which  gradually  fell  away  and  at  no  great  distance  sloped  to  the  water's 
edge.  A  plunge  in  the  water  followed  the  dogs  departure ;  and  in  a  few 
minutes,  his  quick  paddling  was  heard  in  the  river  beneath. 

"An'  is  that  the  way  ye  tell  me  to  get  there  ?  by  the  powers,  honey,  I 
can't  swim !" 

Tige  sprang  upon  the  rock,  and  lustily  shook  the  water  from  his  sides. 
"Och,  yer  laffin'  at  me!  yer  an  ongrateful  dog,  ye  are,  and  by  the  hilp 
of  the  bllssid  virgin,  I'll  be  even  wid  ye  yer  divil." 

Elated  with  the  new  idea  that  had  entered  his  brain,  Michael  started  to 
his  feet;  and,  removing  the  blanket  from  his  shoulders,  tore  it  into  strips, 
which  he  tied  together,  and  fastening  one  end  of  his  new  invention  to  a 
shrub  growing  on  the  bank,  he  let  himself  down  upon  the  rock,  beside  his 
dog. 

"Here  I  am  misthur  Tige,  ivey  bit  oy  me,  an'  not  a  hair  wet  on  my  head 


BIG-  THUNDER.  47 

ither.     By  the  powers,  its  mighty  dark  up  there,  and  hoo  to  git  back  that, 
same  way,  bothers  my  noddle." 

Michael  began  now  to  look  about  him.  He  found  himself  at  the  mouth 
of  a  cave,  the  extent  of  which  his  eyes  could  not  reach.  He  entered.  A 
large  fire  burned  in  a  rude  stone  chimney,  built  to  convey  the  smoke  to  the 
world  above,  lighting  up  the  place  with  an  unnatural  glare,  casting  grim 
shadows  from  the  projecting  rocks  far  into  the  distance,  dark  and  forebo- 
ding. A  cold  chill  ran  through  Michael'*  blood,  and  a  feeling  of  awe  crept 
over  him  as  he  gazed,  with  nothing  to  relieve  the  eye  but  impenetrable 
darkness. 

"This  must  be  another  pargathory;  for  by  the  powers, 'tis  mighty  like 
one.  May  the  Lord  dehnd  us,  if  it  is!"  he  said,  crossing  himself.  "What 
the  matthur  wid  ye  misthur  Tige?  What  have  ye  found  ye  divil?"  he  said  to 
his  dog,  who  had  wandered  from  him,  and  now  came  bounding  back  with 
manifestations  of  delight,  and  then  started  off  again.  Taking  from  the 
fire  a  burning  pine  k»ot,  Michael  followed,  and  a  few  steps  brought  him 
upon  the  body  of  a  man  apparently  lifeless,  lying  at  full  length  on  a  pile  of 
coarse  straw.  Approaching  him  he  held  the  torch  to  his  face. 

"By  all  the  dead  an'  gone  Saints,  'tia  my  masthur,  or  his  blissid  ghost ! 
masthur,  yer  honor,  is  it  yerself  that's  here  ?  if  it  is,  spake  an'  tell  us  ov 
it,  an'  by  the  powers  I'll  dance  an  Irish  jig  on  the  top  ov  my  head,  for  joy. 
Get  out  of  the  way  lige,  an'  don't  be  afthur  lickin'  his  honor's  face  wid 
yer  dim  nasty  mouth ;  oot  of  the  way,  an'  let  me  be  afthur  seein'  if  there's 
ony  blissid  life  in  himsilf." 

Michael  placed  his  hand  upon  his  face,  and  thought  he  could  perceive  a 
little  warmth.  Thus  encouraged,  he  brought  forth  the  well  known  bottle 
of  the  "raal  crathur,"  the  sight  of  which  never  failed  to  raise  a  sparkle  in 
his  own  eyes. 

"Ah  !  by  the  powers,  this  would  bring  a  saint  back  to  life !"  he  said, 
while  he  forced  some  portion  of  the  precious  liquor  into  the   unlortunate 
man's  mouth.     The  spirit  worked  itself  through  his  frame,  and  like  the 
subtle  essense  of  life  made  itself  felt  in  every  nerve.     In  a  few  mTnutes, 
Michael  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  his  master  open  his  eyes. 
"Tol  de  rol,  de  rol,  de  rol, 
Tol  de  rol,  de  ra  re  rary." 

Sang  Michael,  dancing  and  capering  for  joy.  Tige  ran  barking  after 
him,  making  the  whole  arch  ring  with  his  heavy  voice.  "That's  right 
shout  ye  divil,  an'  niver  leave  off  dancin'  as  long  as  ye  live;  our  masthur's 
alive  and  kickin' ;  Tol  de  rol,  re  rary."  Having  shook  off  his  excess  of 
joy,  Michael  returned  to  his  master. 

"Is  that  you  Michael  ?"  he  asked  in  a  feeble  voice. 

"Me?  to  be  sure  it  is,  your  honor,  ivery  bit  of  me;  ready  to  die  or  live 
in  your  blissid  honor's  service." 

"How  came  you  here,  Michael  ?" 
"I  didn't  came,  yer  honor,  I  lit  myself  down  wid  my  ould  blanket. 


48  MARY  KALE  :   OR, 

"I  am  almost  famished,  for  the  want  of  food,  cannot  you  procure  me 
some  ?" 

'•Food  is  it,  yer  honor?  By  the  powers  havn't  I  as  dainty  a  piece  ofbrid 
as  the  sowl  could  wish  ?  There  it  is  yer  honor,  an'  a  bit  of  fish  too,  though 
I  suppose  yer  honor  won't  ate  that  ?" 

"Anything,  Michael,  anything ;  only  to  stop  this  knawing  that  is  con- 
suming my  vitals.  But  first  liberate  my  arms  ;  they  have  been  bound  in 
this  position  nearly  a  month." 

"God  hilp  yer  honor,  an'  forgive  me  for  not  seein'  it  afore,"  said  Mi- 
chael, taking  a  knife  from  the  receptacle  of  all  his  effects,  and  cutting  the 
cord  around  his  master's  wrist,  which  was  attached  to  a  short  rope  made 
fast  to  a  ring  in  the  wall. 

"I  believe  I  have  lost  the  use  of  my  arms  entirely  !  Rub  them,  Michael, 
rub  them  hard  !  There  is  no  feeling  in  them  !  There,  that  will  do  ;  they 
will  gradually  come  to  themselves;  I  need  food  more  than i need  my  arms. 
I  hav'nt  tasted  food  for  three  whole  days." 

"May  they  niver  have  ony  thin'  to  ate  as  long  as  they  live,  the  divils ! 
May  they  be  starved  in  this  world,  an'  the  nixt,  all  togither  intirely  !"  said 
Michael,  in  honest  indignation  at  his  master's  ill  treatment.  "Thin  yer 
honor  mus'nt  ate  a  great  dale;  here,"  he  continued  turning  some  of  the 
contents  of  his  bottle  upon  a  small  piece  of  bread.  "Ate  that  yer  honor !" 
and  he  placed  a  portion  of  it  in  his  master's  mouth.  "Yer  honor  mus'nt 
ate  too  fast ;  it  isVit  according  to  the  doctor's  book,  at  all  a'tall ;  it  distracts 
the  stomach,  yer  honor;"  here  he  put  another  piece  of  the  bread  into  the 
mouth  of  the  famishing  man;  and  so  on,  mite  after  mite,  till  the  stock  was 
exhausted  he  had  allotted  him. 

"Och  !  it's  as  good  as  grace  to  sore  eves,  to  see  yer  honor.  We  thought 
ye  was  kilt,  sure." 

"The  olow  I  received,"  said  George,  his  voice  made  a  little  stronger, 
though  he  spoke  now  with  difficulty,  "was  slight.  It  was  merely  a  flesh 
wound.  It  deprived  me  of  my  senses  at  the  time,  it  is  true ;  but  I  soon 
came  tounyself  again,  though  very  weak  with  the  loss  of  blood.  I  was 
brought  to  this  place,  and  my  wounds  dressed  as  well  as  their  little  know- 
ledge and  limited  means  would  allow.  As  my  wound  began  to  heal  and 
my  strength  to  return,  thinking  I  might  be  troublesome,  they  bound  and 
secured  me  to  the  wall  as  you  found  me.  Otherwise,  with  the  exception 
of  their  abusive  remarks,  they  used  me  kindly.  About  a  fortnight  since 
their  conduct  changed  towards  me.  My  food  was  served  out  to  me  in  quan- 
tities growing  smaller  and  smaller,  each  successive  day,  until  it  was  redu- 
ced to  a  mere  morsel;  and,  as  the  bully  chief  brought  it  to  me,  and  put  it 
in  my  mouth,  a  fiendish  joy  would  light  his  devil's  face,  and  he  would 
smile  to  see  my  greedy  mastication,  and  linger  in  hopes  I  would  plead  for 
more ;  but  I  did  not.  No  !  thank  God,  I  did  not !  I  had  strength  to  suffer 
through,  and  not  kneel  to  him.  At  length  they  cut  me  off  entirely,  and  for 
three  days  I  have  not  tasted  food.  They  brought  me  here  ;  dressed  my 


BIG  THUNDER.  49 

•wounds;  gave  me  back  to  life,  only  that  T  might  die  a  lingering  death  by 
starvation.  Oh !  the  misery  of  the  last  three  days  !  A  hundred  deaths 
could  not  embody  the  sufferings  crowded  into  that  space  and  endured  by 
me  alone.  But  [  am  free  again;  and  will  forth  to  meet " 

"Stop,  stop,  yer  honor !  Ye  hiv'nt  strength  to  git  up  yet,  at  all  a'tall !" 

"I  believe  I  hav'nt,  Michael;  the  thought  of  the  misery  I  had  suffered, 
fired  my  soul  beyond  my  strength.  I  will  keep  quiet  for  a  while,  for  the 
greatest  object  I  have  to  live  for  is  to  give  him  a  slight  taste  of  what  I  have 
suffered." 

'•The  greatest7  Yer  honor  forgits  the  gal." 

"Only  for  the  moment !  How  is  she,  Michael  ?" 

"Och  !  she  is  very  poorly,  yer  honor  !  How  the  little  darlint  cried  and 
took  on,  at  the  ould  jintleman's  trial !  I'm  shure  they  all " 

"Trial !"  interrupted  George,  what  do  you  mean  ?     What  trial?" 

"Och !  may  the  divil  rin  away  wid  them  all,  for  that  same !  And  he  is 
innocent  afthur  all ;  he  is  innocent !" 

"Will  you  explain  yourself,  Michael  ?" 

"Explain  is  it?  By  the  powers,  I  believe  it  is  explained  now,  yer  honor. 
Och  !  the  poor  darlint's  father  !" 

"Weil,  what  of  him  ?" 

"He's  going  to  be  hanged  for  kiltin'  yer  honor's  self,  and  all  the  rest  of 
ye,  an'  here  ye  are  alive  and  kickin' !" 

"Hanged!     Where?  when,  when,  Michael?" 

"To-morrow  morning,  yer  honor,  at  Troy." 

"Great  God  !  What  are  the  proofs  against  him  ?" 

Michael  went  on  in  his  own  circumlocutious  manner,  to  inform  his  mas- 
ter of  all  he  knew  in  the  matter ;  and  little  as  it  was,  it  was  sufficient  to 
let  George  into  the  secret. 

"The  fiend,"  he  exclaimed,  springing  to  his  feet  with  strength  lent  him 
from  the  power  and  energy  of  his  mind  and  purpose.  "This  must  be  pre- 
vented. A  bloody  frock  and  dagger  found  in  his  cellar,  say  you  ?" 

"Yes,  yer  honor." 

"This  must  be  looked  into  ;"  and  he  rushed  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

"Yes,  yer  honor ;  but  how's  yer  honor  goin'  to  git  away  ?"  asked  Mi- 
chael a  little  puzzled. 

"The  same  way  you  came." 

Michael  felt  for  the  fragments  of  his  blanket  against  the  rock.  "By  the 
powers  !"  he  said,  if  yer  honor  climbs  this ;  yer  bate  the  divil,  whin  he  tried 
to  climb  back  to  Heaven,  ony  how." 

"It  will  be  a  hard  matter,  I  know,"  said  George  despondingly ;  "is  there 
no  boat,  here  ?" 


"A  drvil  a  bit,  yer  honor ;  they  took  it  away  wid  &em." 
"Then  we  must  try  t        ...nbing;"  and  suiting  the  acti 


action  to  the  word, 


50  MARY  KALE  :  OR, 

George  grappled  the  rope:  but  with  all  the  strength  he  could  throw  into 
his  arms  he  could  not  raise  his  body  from  the  firm  rock  on  which  he  stood. 
He  had  forgotten  in  his  zeal  to  getaway,  thathis  arms  were  almost  palsied. 

"Good  God  !"  he  exclaimed,  "this  is  indeed  unfortunate.  "What's  to  be 
done?  Our  only  chance  of  getting  off  is  now  by  some  passing  boat  in  the 
morning,  when  it  will  be  too  late  to  save  him.  This  is  horrible  !  What 
must  she  not  have  suffered ;  how  keen  her  suffering  now!  To-morrow 
she  will  be  fatherless,  motherless,  friendless ;  and  he,  that  is  the  cause  of 
all  this ;  God  knows  the  innocent  cause,  who  should  be  near  to  cheer,  help 
and  sustain,  perhaps  to  save,  is  prevented  by  blind  fate.  Crael,  cruel  ne- 
cessity !"•  and  retracing  his  steps,  he  crouched  upon  the  earth  beside  the  fire; 
and,  shattered  as  he  was  by  sickness,  weak  with  long  fasting,  sore  with 
disappointment,  agonized  with  the  thought  of  Mary's  suffering, •  it  is  no: 
wonder  that  he  gave  way  to  his  feelings  and  wept.  He  did  not  falter  long, 
however,  but  springing  to  his  feet,  exclaiming,  "I'll  know  the  extent  of 
this  infernal  hole  !  I'll  know  if  there's  no  chance  of  escape  !"  And  seiz- 
ing a  flaming  pine  knot,  he  proceeded  to  explore  his  subterranean  prison. 
Upon  the  left  he  came  upon  a  narrow  opening  leading  out  from  the  main 
hall,  which  he  entered. 

"Where's  yer  blissed  honor  goin'?"  asked  Michael,  a  little  alarmed  at 
the  dark  prospect  before  them. 

"George  did  not  answer,  but  pushed  on,  leaving  the  Irishman  the  dread- 
ful alternative  of  remaining  alone  if  he  did  not  choose  to  follow.  He  there- 
fore, took  up  the  line  of  march,  his  faithful  Tige,  bringing  up  the  rear. 
For  some  hundred  yards  they  pursued  their  way  uninterrupted,  Avhen  the 
subterranean  suddenly  narrowed,  and  there  was  scarcely  breadth  between 
the  rugged  walls,  sufficient  for  a  man  to  squeeze  himself  through. 

"By  the  powers,  this  must  be  the  divil's  own  hole !  Shure  yer  honor's 
not  goin'  in  there,"  exclaimed  Michael,  struck  all  aback. 

George  was  through,  however,  and  Michael  was  obliged  to  follow.  Get- 
ting upon  the  other  side  it  was  better  doing  again  ;  though  their  progress 
was  occasionally  interrupted  by  rocks  projecting  from  side  to  side  as  if  to 
strengthen  the  masonry  of  the  whole.  These  they  were  obliged  either  to 
crawl  under  or  overleap.  In  this  manner  they  pursued  their  way,  to  them 
almost  an  immeasurable  distance,  the  channel  growing  narrower,  and  less 
lofty  until  it  terminated  altogether. 

"Destruction'!"  exclaimed  George,  breaking  silence  for  the  first  time  since 
he  entered  the  gloomy  vault,  "here's  an  end  to  hope  in  this  direction  ;  we' 
have  only  io  retrace  our  steps  Michael ;  and  that  speedily.  I  was  almost 
sure  this  would  lead  us  out,"  he  continued  bringing  his  torch-light  to  bear 
upon  the  terminating  wall,  when  its  singular  appearance  attracted  his  at- 
tention. It  was  formed  by  a  series  of  stones,  one  piled  upon  the  other,  to 
appearance  entirely  disconnected. 

"Nature  never  formed  this  work,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  a  stone,  and 


BIG  THUNDER.  51 

applying  to  it  all  the  strength  he  was  master  of;  it  fell  out  and  from  him 
with  a  loud  crash.  So  quick  was  it  done,  and  so  unexpected  was  the  re- 
sult, that  George  almost  started  from  his  feet ;  and  Michael  invoked  the 
aid  of  the  saints  for  their  mutual  protection.  It  was  but  a  moment  that 
George  hesitated,  and  thrusting  the  lighted  knot  through  the  aperture, 
looked  in. 

"We  are  in  a  habitable  world  at  all  events,'!  said  George,  getting  through 
the  hote  he  had  made ;  "here  are  boxes,  tubs  and  barrels  ;  earthen  jars  and 
iron  pots  in  all  quantities  ;  come  along  in,  Michael ;  what-do  you  fear  ?" 

"Och,  yer  honor,"  said  Michael,  entering  and  looking  tremblingly  about 
him,  "shure  we've  bin  through  pargathory  an'  landed  in  the  divil's  own 
kitchen." 

"What  matters  it  if  we  are  ?  here's  a  flight  of  stairs  that  will  take  us  up 
to  earth,"  said  George  mounting  the  steps,  which  brought  him  upon  well- 
known  grounds.  "Do  you  know  where  you  are  .Michael?"  he  asked,  a 
smile  lighting  up  his  wane  face. 

"By  the  powers !"  exclaimed  Michael,  looking  in  astonishment  about 
him,  ''if  this  arnt  Misthur  Kale's  house,  thin  I  must  be  dreaming,  sure." 

"Now  can  I  account  for  Loper's  finding  the  bloody  dress  in  his  cellar ; 
now  can  I  see  through  this  hellish  plot !  Come,  sir,  we  must  be  in  Troy 
tomorrow,  before  the  morning  is  three  hours  old." 

"What  twinty  miles,  yer  honor  !  Ye'll  niver  he  able  to  walk  it,  at  all 
a'tall." 

"Never  fear  for  me  ;  I  am  quite  strong  again." 


62  MARY  KALE:  OR, 


CHAPTER    X. 

"And  now  I  will  unclasp  a  secret  book, 
And  to  your  quick-conceiving  discontents, 
I'll  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous." 

[Shakspeare. 

"Stay  the  execution  !  stay  the  execution  !"  and  the  crowd  giving  away, 
George  Arlin  pale  and  haggard  rushed  to  the  foot  of  the  gallows.  That 
welcomed  sound,  like  the  "last  trump"  waking  up  the  dead,  recalled  the 
wandering  senses  of  the  sorrowing  girl,  and  shrieking  her  lover's  name, 
she  sprang  into  his  arms.  , 

"Great  God  !  my  son,  my  son  !"  exclaimed  the  benevolent  stranger,  who 
had  promised  Kale  protection  to  his  child.  My  boy  has  returned  !  My  boy 
has  retnrned  !"  and  the  old  man  would  have  rushed  in  to  his  son's  arms  also, 
had  they  not  been  preoccupied. 

"Yes,  by  the  powers,  ivery  bit  ov  him,  and  more  too  ;  an'  I  found  him, 
yer  honor,  I  found  him,"  said  Michael,  his  thoughts  running  on  the  prom- 
ised reward. 

And  he  that  but  now  stood  on  the  brink  of  the  grave — he  that  had  set- 
tled up  his  account  with  time  and  things,  and  prepared  himself  to  meet  the 
dreaded  and  uncertain  future — he  that  had  knelt  before  that  vast  assembly 
of  his  own  countrymen,  their  hearts  set  in  bitter  judgment  against  him, 
now  stood  proudly  up;  for  he  felt  that  bod  in  his  wisdom  would  shape  his 
ends  according  to  justice  and  mercy;  that  new  light  would  show  itself  in 
the  horizon — proudly,  for  he  felt  that  the  stain  resting  upon  his  name  would 
be  wiped  away;  and,  when  he  looked  down  upon  his  child,  that  slight  in- 
nocent being,  so  fearfully  tried,  so  wofully  bereaved,  in  her  lover's  arms, 
and  reflected  that  not  only  he  had  been  given  back  to  her,  but  most 
probably  her  father;  tears  of  joy  coursed  themselves  down  his  furrowed 
cheek. 

What  can  we  say  of  Jerry  Huss?  How  picture  his  jealoas  rage  at  be- 
holding his  victim  in  the  arms  of  his  favored  rival  ?  How  give  expression 
to  his  disappointment  at  beholding  the  fabric  he  had  reared  tumble  to  the 
dust  ?  With  exulting  joy  he  had  witnessed  her  lover's  overthrow,  followed 
ber  father  to  the  scaffold;  and,  prophetically  he  looked  to  the  time,  when, 
bereft  of  father,  mother,  lover — when  denied  by  friends  who  would  have  no 
sympathy  for  a  murderer's  child — when  rejected  by  hurranity,  driven  into 
the  strepts  a  houseless,  homeless  wanderer ;  a  starving  outcast ;  she  would 
joy  to  find  protection  even  in  the  arms  of  Jerry  Huss.  So  had  he  calcula- 
ted, so  hoped,  only  to  be  disappointed.  Stung  to  the  soul,  he  grasped  the 


BIG  THUNDER.  53 

handle  of  a  sharp  pointed  dagger  in  his  bosom,  and  started  forward  with 
bloody  intent ;  but,  the  dense  crowd  collected  around  the  united  hearts, 
barred  his  progress,  and  for  the  moment  staid  his  purpose.  Releasing  his 
hold  of  the  dagger,  he  muttered,  "I  will  have  her  yet !  You  may  fold  her 
to  your  heart — you  may  enjoy  her  now  !  but  make  the  most  of  it !  My 
time  will  come !" 

So  overjoyed  waa  Mary  at  her  lover's  return,  that  for  the  moment  she 
forgot  the  thousand  eyes  that  were  upon  her,  and  wept  for  joy  upon  George's 
bosom. 

"Thank  heaven,  you  are  safe  !"  she  exclaimed  ;  "thank  heaven,  you  are 
not  murdered,  and  you  have  come  back  to  save  my  father !  You  have 
come  back  to  refute  the  base  charge  brought  against  hi  a. — to  take  the  rope 
from  the  innocent  man's  neck,  and  give  him  back  his  good  name  !  God's 
hand  is  in  this  !" 

"Yes,  Mary,  that  is  my  purpose;  and  with  His  divine  assistance,  I  will 
accomplish  it,"  said  George,  and  giving  Mary  over  to  his  father  and  greet- 
ing the  old  man  silently  with  a  warm  shake  of  the  hand,  he  ascended  and 
stood  beside  Kale  upon  the  scaffold  ;  and  facing  the  gaping  multitude,  he 
thus  addressed  them,  in  a  voice  a  little  tremulous  from  excitement : 

"Fellow  citizens  !  I  am  here  to  save,  and  denounce  !  I  am  here  to  succor 
an  innocent  old  man,  who  has  been  made  the  victim  of  hellish  arts;  and  to 
denounce  the  base  calumniator,  and  foul  murderer.  You  see  in  me  the 
individual  for  whose  supposed  murder,  in  connection  with  the  assassina- 
tion of  the  unfortunate  Von  Alstine,  this  old  man  was  about  to  suffer  death. 
It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  enter  into  details  here,  at  a  proper  time  and 
place  I  shall  do  so,  but  only  to  affirm  that  I  was  present  at  the  dreadful 
affray — that  I  saw  the  knife  descend  to  drink  the  life's  blood  of  my  friend — 
that  I  at  once  recognized  the  fiend  that  dealt  the  blow  !  and  with  the  re- 
sentment the  occasion  required,  sought  to  revenge  his  death.  But  I  was 
overpowered  by  numbers ;  receiving  a  thrust  from  an  unknown  dagger, 
which  nearly  proved  fatal  to  me.  After  which,  I  was  conveyed  to  an  un- 
ier-ground  prison,  where  I  have  since  dragged  out  a  miserable  existence 
till  last  night,  when  I  providentially  made  my  escape.  The  murderer  is 
Hot  the  old  man  that  now  stands  beside  me,  who,  though  innocent,  was 
alout  to  suffer  the  penalty  due  to  the  greatest  crime  known  to  human 
laws  ;  but  Jerry  Huss,  the  nefarious  "Big  Thunder,"  Chief  of  the  "Anti- 
renters  !"  And  he  pointed  down  directly  into  the  upturned  face  of  the  dar- 
'ing  leader. 

The  fiery  flash  of  his  eye,  and  the  involuntary  start  of  Huss,  under  the 
accusing  look  and  denotive  finger  of  George,  revealed  him  to  all.  Huss 
saw  his  danger — he  read  his  doom  in  every  eye  around;  and  his  first  im- 
pulse was  to  rush  upon  the  scaffold,  sheath  his  dagger  in  the  heart  of  his 
accuser,  and  then  turn  the  point  upon  himself,  and  thus  die  befitting  the 
fame  he  had  acquired — befitting  "Big  Thunder."  But,  a  second  thought 


64  MARY  KALE :  OR, 

brought  his  unoffending  victim  before  his  mind's  eye,  her  whom  he  had 
sworn  to  possess,  at  the  risk  of  his  immortal  soul,  brought  back  the  love  of 
life,  the  love  of  adventure,  and  entirely  changed  his  purpose.  Free  him- 
self from  this  motley  crowd,  and  he  was  "Big  Thunder,"  again.  It  was 
worth  trying  for.  He  could  not  depend  upon  the  few  that  were  withhimj 
for  he  knew  it  to  be  useless  to  fight  against  such  odds  ;  and  as  they  were 
not  suspected,  he  knew  they  would  not  willingly  draw  suspicions  upon 
themselves  ;  nor  did  he  wish  it.  He  must,  depend  upon  himself.  All  this 
passed  through  his  mind  in  a  tenth  part  of  the  time  that  it  takes  to  relate 
it ;  and  drawing  the  dagger  from  his  bosom,  with  a  fierce  yell  he  rushed 
upon  the  crowd.  He  had  calculated  aright.  His  sudden  bound,  fierce  yell 
and  glittering  steel,  struck  panic  into  the  foremost  of  the  crowd,  which 
gave  way  at  his  approach.  Those  in  the  rear  not  knowing  the  canse  of 
the  outcry,  nor  the  nature  of  the  danger  that  threatened  them,  also  gave 
way,  falling  back  on  either  side  like  the  mighty  waters  of  the  "Red  Sea," 
rolled  back  by  the  Almighty's  hand,  giving  passage  to  the  Israelites.  He 
had  nearly  reached  the  limits  of  the  crowd,  in  a  minute  he  would  be  freej 
when  a  giant's  grasp  was  fixed  upon  his  uplifted  arm  ;  his  feet  was  struck 
out  frorn  under  him,  and  Loper  threw  himself  upon  the  body  of  the  pros- 
trate Chief.,  -jjfi- 

In  a  rich  and  elegantly  furnished  room  was  seated  a  fair  young  girl. 
A  bright  coal  fire  was  burning  in  the  grate,  into  which  she  was  gazing 
with  a  sort  of  dreamy  abstraction,  as  if  her  thoughts  were  wandering  far 
from  self.  A  slight  rustling  noise  caused  her  to  start,  and  approaching  a 
bed  she  drew  back  its  rich  silken  curtains,  and  looked  in.  Ihe  bed  was 
occupied  by  a  young  man,  whose  face  was  thin  and  pale  as  an  invalid  for 
weeks  confined,  and  his  wasted  frame  looked  like  one  in  the  consumption. 
As  the  girl  approached  his  pillow,  he  slowly  opened  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
her  lovely  face  with  a  searching  and  inquiring  look.  Was  he  dreaming  ? 
,He  had  an  indistinct  recollection  of  strange  events — of  an  angel's  hovering, 
around  him  in  his  dreams;  and  as  he  gazed  upon  the  bright  being  before 
him  he  almost  persuaded  himself  that  she  was  indeed  a  visitant  from  the 
world  of  spirits.  "Mary,"  he  murmured. 

"Ah  !  he  knows  me  !"  joyfully  exclaimed  the  girl.  "Thank  Heaven  he 
has  returned  to  consciousness  and  reason !" 

-  "Is  it  indeed  you,  Mary  ?  Then  it  is  not  all  a  dream  ?  And  yet  strange 
visitations  of  memory  fill  my  brain  from  the  past — strange  mingling  oC 
evil  and  good — of  dark — yes,  yes,  I  remember  it  all ! — tell  me,  Mary,  where: 
am  I  ?  What  has  happened  to  me  ?  The  last  I  remember " 

"Nay,  nay,  you  must  not  talk.  You  have  been  ill,  dangerously  ill,  but 
now  you  are  better— the  crisis  is  passed!  Thank  God  for  it,"  she  said, 
fervently.  "But  you  must  not  be  imprudent.  You  must  close  your  eyes 
ami  try  to  rest." 


BIG  THUNDER.  55 

"Tell  me  at  least  what  became  of  that  monster  Huss  !  what  of  your  fa- 
ther, and  where  I  am  now  ?" 

"Compose  yourself  and  I  will.  When  you  had  so  nobly  vindicated  my 
father,  and  denounced  the  guilty  man,  your  strength  which  had  been  im- 
paired by  previous  distress  and  sickness,  and  which  had  been  sustained 
thus  far,  only  by  your  determined  mind  and  the  desire  to  do  your  duty, 
gave  way,  and  you  became  insensible.  Jerry  Huss  was  taken  and  con- 
veyed to  prison,  where  he  now  awaits  his  trial.  My  dear  father  was  set 
at  liberty,  and  assisted  your  father  in  removing  you  to  your  home,  where 
you  now  are,  blessing  you  for  his  life,  and  that  ot  his  child." 

"How  does  he  feel  towards  me  now,  Mary?  Will  he  consent  to  our 
union  ?" 

"We  will  not  talk  about  that  now,  George,  you  need  rest — sleep,  and 
to-morrow  I  will  let  you  talk  a  little." 

"Indulge  me  in  this,  dearest." 

"I  know  not  his  feelings"  she  said,  "except  I  judge  from  the  anxiety  he 
has  manifested  towards  you  through  your  sickness.  If  to  watch  by  you 
night  and  day— to  listen,  and  hasten  to  procure  any  want  suggested  in 
your  delirium — to  soothe  and  tranquillize  your  feelings,  when  contending 
with  some  powerful  enemy,  or  watch  your  quiet  slumbers — be  tokens  of 
love,  then  have  his  feelings  changed  towards  you." 

"I  am  grateful  for  it ;  anil  how  stands  my  suit  with  you,  Mary  ?"  he  ask- 
ed pressing  the  little  hand  that  lay  upon  the  bed  beside  him. 

A  blush  suffused  the  handsome  face  of  the  girl,  as  she  drew  a  miniature 
from  her  bosom  attached  to  d  gold  chain  around  her  neck,  and  held  it  up 
to  the  gaze  of  the  young  man. 

"You  are  mine  ?" 

"Forever !" 

He  drew  her  down  towards  him,  she  yielding  to  his  gentle  force,  and 
imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her  lips  which  she  blushingly  returned. 

"Not  a  word  more,"  she  said  playfully,  "I  must  begin  to  use  my  author- 
ity, so  go  to  sleep  and  get  well  as  soon  as  possible."  And  she  left  the 
room. 

Two  months  passed  away,  and  George  having  recovered  from  his  severe 
illness,  asked  of  Kale  the  hand  of  his  daughter  in  marriage?  The  old  man 
Avith  much  show  of  feelings,  gave  his  consent.  He  had  suffered  much,  and 
he  looked  upon  it  as  a  just  punishment,  sent  upon  him  by  a  reproving  God, 
for  his  blind  wilfulness  in  perverting  the  good  intentions  of  a  noble  young 
man,  and  endangering  his  daughter's  happiness,  he  had  passed  through  the 
refiner's  fire  and  come  out  bright.  His  eyes  were  opened,  and  he  had 
learned  to  judge  of  the  tree  by  its  fruit — of  men  by  their  actions,  and  not 
by  his  own  prejudiced  feelings — and  in  short  he  was  happy  in  living  with 
his  daughter  after  her  marriage  with  George  Arlin,  to  enjoy  that  wealth 


56  JVIARY  KALE. 

which  he  once  pretended  so  utterly  to  despise.  Though  to  his  credit  be  it 
said,  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  when  he  could  succor  the  distressed,  or 
aid  the  unfortunate. 


Errata      Page  6,  2d  line  from  the  bottom,  reads  lads — should  read  lords. 
Page  10,  4th  line  from  the  bottom,  reads  strong — should  read  stony. 


